


A Journey of Renewal

by penguinated



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:17:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 32,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinated/pseuds/penguinated
Summary: Soriel, an Elf from Lothlórien comes into the company of the Fellowship of the Ring. She journeys throughout Middle Earth, doing what she can to aid in the war. Of course, she encounters friendship and love as well.





	1. Boromir of Gondor

                Soriel was walking along a forest path, quite alone. She was travelling from Lothlórien to Imladris, or Rivendell as it is known to Men, to visit her friend, Arwen Undómiel. She was distracted for a moment by a charming flower on the side of the path. As an Elf, she felt no hurry to reach her destination. The grace of her people afforded her all the time in the world to make a journey. So she took the time to admire the foliage, and tried to recall the name of this particular flower that had caught her eye. In the midst of her admiration, since her focus was on identifying the blossom, she took no notice of a horse coming full speed in her direction. She narrowly avoided a ghastly collision.

                She considered herself to be in plain sight, and found it rather rude that the rider had not done the avoiding instead of her. Raising herself up to her full height, she shouted indignantly at him.

                “Pardon me, sir! Perhaps you ought not to be on a horse if you cannot control it!”

                Immediately, she regretted the harshness of her tone. She shrunk a little and prayed that he was too far gone to hear her. Unfortunately that was not so. He had heard her and now was himself offended. Slowly this time, he approached her. He glowered at her from his seat atop his steed.

                “How dare you speak in such a manner to a captain of Gondor,” he spat.

                Now that she could see him plainly, the tree of Gondor was clear upon his chest. She would not have guessed that he was a captain, however. She regretted her shouting even more now. She was an Elf with no real standing, and she had spoken so awfully to him. She bowed her head.

                “I apologize, my lord, I did not know,” she explained. “In my fear, I spoke out of turn.”

                “Your fear?” he questioned.

                “My lord, you came very close to riding right over me,” she continued.

                He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. “Well. You would do well to make yourself seen next time you are travelling alone.”

                Surprised by his stubbornness, she looked up at him, really taking in his appearance. He was handsome, with soft brown hair that reached his broad shoulders. His eyes were fierce and strong. He carried a sword and shield. He looked like a real warrior.

                She almost smirked. “Yes, my good lord, I will do well to remember such things. You see, my kind like to admire the beauty of the forest, and I was attracted by this flower here.” She indicated it with her index finger. “You can imagine how I got carried away.”

                He followed her finger with his gaze. He seemed unfazed by the flower, but did not say so. He merely nodded.

“Certainly,” he said. “Well, you have made your apologies, and I accept them. I will be on my way now.”

                “Safe travels to you,” she replied, with a small curtsy.

                He nodded again before urging his horse back down the path. She watched him go, and even as she was looking at his back, she could not forget his eyes. Those were the eyes of a solider. She had never met a captain of Gondor before, and she would certainly not forget this one.

                She started on her way again, which was the same direction as the Man. She thought about him some more and found that she wondered about his name. He was obviously from nobility judging by his posture and tone. She mused that a captain of Gondor was probably a position bestowed on him by his family. After a few more hours of travelling, her thoughts of him faded. She began to sing to occupy herself for the rest of the way.

                As the sun began to sink down over the horizon, Soriel continued to walk. She did not much fear the dark since she knew this path well and danger was unlikely so close to Imladris. She would not stop for shelter, she decided. She would continue on her way. But, along the path, she came upon a horse and rider. It was the very same from the morning, the captain of Gondor. He did not see her, though.

                “Captain,” she greeted calmly so not to startle him.

                He whipped around. He had a sense of urgency about him now, and he did not frighten her as he did earlier. She felt a little sorry for him. He was clearly lost.

                “Oh, you,” he said and only relaxed a little.

                He had dismounted from his horse, which added to her not being scared. He was more earnest looking when he was almost on eye level with her. He was actually about a head taller than she, but something about both being on the ground made her feel like they were more equals than before.

                “I do hope you have forgiven me from our previous meeting,” she said.

                “I have,” he told her.

                “Are you alright?” she wondered. “Where are you going, my lord? Perhaps I can aid you.”

                “I am going to Rivendell,” he answered. “I have urgent business to discuss with Lord Elrond.”

                “I am also going to Rivendell,” she told him. “I have been many times. Are you familiar with this part of the land?”

                He shook his head. “I am not.”

                “Please, allow me to help in order to make up for my behavior,” she said. “I would gladly guide you there.”

                He hesitated as he thought this over. He did not seem eager to take her up on her offer, but it appeared he had little choice.

                “Yes, alright,” he agreed. “If my need were not great, I would not allow it. As it is, though, I will accept your guidance.”

                “You are gracious, my lord,” she said. “And now that we are to be travel companions, it would be proper for me to know your name.”

                “Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor,” he said. “And who are you?”

                “My name is Soriel,” she told him. “I am from Lothlórien. It is an honor to meet you, Boromir of Gondor.”

                She held out her hand to him. He only took it for a moment before he released it. Then he knelt on the road and patted his thigh with his hand.

                “Come,” he said. “We have no time to waste.”

                She used his leg to mount the horse. He mounted in front of her and allowed her to put her arms round his waist to stay up. He flicked the reins and they were off together.


	2. Attack!

The pair rode in silence for about an hour before it was getting dark. The only sound was the pounding of the horse’s hooves on the dirt as it gently trotted.

                “So,” Soriel began. “What brings a Man of your position to the Elven haven of Imladris?”

                “A dream,” Boromir replied, surprising her with the honesty. “I seek Lord Elrond’s wisdom.”

                “Is that all?” she wondered.

                He nodded and said nothing more. She had no desire to allow them to travel as strangers. She wished to know him better if they were going all the way to Imladris together.

                “I am going to see Lord Elrond’s daughter, Arwen,” she said without prompting. “We became friends long ago when –”

                “I am not particularly interested in your friendship with Lord Elrond’s daughter,” he cut across her. He had no interest in Soriel at all really, least of all how she made a friend.

                “Oh,” she replied, dejected, and released her grasp on his waist.

                This action caused her to lose her balance on the horse. She began to tip backwards, and she almost yelped with fright before Boromir’s strong grasp caught her by the wrist and re-positioned her. It was a little rough, but she was grateful all the same.

                “Be careful,” he said simply, and compelled his horse forward again, as it had stopped in the almost fall.

                “Yes, Captain Boromir,” she said.

                With that, they pressed on, once again in silence. Just before the sun completely set, Boromir came to a stop.

                “We should get some rest,” he said, and dismounted before helping Soriel down as well. “I can take the first watch.”

                “If it please you,” she returned. “Allow me. There is very little to harm us here, but if you are worried, I will watch. My kind have sharper senses and we do not need as much sleep.”

                He agreed, but insisted he make the fire. He made it small, and when the glow was enough to just see one another, he was satisfied. He laid down with his back to her, and was asleep within mere minutes of closing his eyes. Soriel watched, but mostly Boromir. She was fascinated by him. She had never met someone so gruff and proud in her life. Yet, she liked him.

                Just as she was considering why she felt this, an arrow whizzed by, missing her ear by centimeters. She leapt to her feet and jogged over to the tree the arrow was lodged in, thankful that it was not her head. It was not an Elven arrow.

                “Captain Boromir!” she called, and knelt to shake him awake. “Orcs!”

                He sat upright and reached for his weapons. He stood up just as a small group of orcs appeared inside their little clearing.

                “Can you wield a sword?” he demanded.

                “I – no, I’m sorry!” she cried.

                “Then get behind me and watch my back,” he instructed and she did as she was told.

                The orcs came closer, and one by one, she heard Boromir slay them. There were only about three or four, and it seemed he was more than prepared for such a challenge. One grazed his arm with a dagger, and he cried out, but other than that, he was unharmed. When the orcs lay dead around him, he rounded on Soriel, grasping his arm.

                “There is little to harms us here, is there?!” he yelled.

                “I did not know!” she returned desperately. “I have made this journey many times and have never seen orcs here!”

                “You ought to know better considering the times,” he said. “Nowhere is safe from the forces of darkness when the people of Gondor are so weak.”

                “Gondor is weakening?” she questioned.

                He sighed. “I have said too much. Tell me, can you heal this wound?” He indicated the slice in his arm.

                “Yes, absolutely,” she told him.

                He sat against a tree and Soriel knelt beside him. She tore the hole in his sleeve wider and reached into her bag for some herbs to stop the bleeding.

                “Are you alright?” she asked tentatively.

                “It is only a cut,” he replied curtly.

                She chewed the herbs in her mouth to make a paste she could apply to the gash. It was certainly more than a cut, but she was not going to argue with him. Before she rubbed it in, she looked at him.

                “This may sting a little,” she warned.

                She pressed it into his skin and he hissed loudly.

                “A little?” he growled through clenched teeth. “You have a terrible habit of underestimating things, Elf!”

                “Captain Boromir, you must be still or it will be worse,” she returned gently. “I am sorry you are in pain, but surely you know I am not to blame for all of this.”

                He grumbled under his breath as she wrapped his arm in a soft bandage.

                “There,” she said with a firm tug on the ties. “Patched up. That was not so bad, was it?”

                He glared at her. She gave him a smile. She started to get to her feet to give him more space but he reached out and took her wrist. She faced him.

                “Thank you,” he said.

                “Of course,” she replied with a bow of her head.

                He released her and she floated away. Boromir had not interacted with many Elves, and never a female, but he could not deny she was charming. She was humble and polite, and he thought her fair. He watched her go and sit across the fire from him.

                “Captain Boromir?” she said suddenly.

                “Yes?”

                “Where is your horse?”

                He stood up and looked around the small clearing. With an aggravated sigh, he realized his horse was gone. He felt a stab of irritation.

                “It must have been frightened by the Orcs,” he said. “It is probably long gone by now. Besides, in the dark we could never locate it.”

                “I’m sorry,” she said.

                “No,” he said, shaking his head. “As you said, you are not to blame.”

                “I feel a bit responsible,” she pressed. “I was supposed to watch.”

                “It is more important that you watched for more Orcs,” he assured her. “We will just have to continue on foot.”

                “As you say,” she agreed. “Oh, and captain?”

                “Hm?”

                “Thank you,” she said. “For saving my life. If you were not with me, those orcs would have meant certain death.”

                Her gratitude surprised him. He had been rather cross with her since they met, and he felt he had a right to be since she had addressed him so. But this notion of thanks caused the remaining bitterness or blame he held toward her to melt away. Perhaps, travelling with her was not so bad.


	3. Rivendell

                “Oh, I am so relieved,” Soriel sighed as they crossed the threshold into Imladris.

                Forty-eight days had passed since the Orc attack. In that time, a friendship had blossomed between Boromir and Soriel. Once they got past their initial meeting and the chaos of the Orc attack, they found each other in good company. They exchanged stories and songs, and she even made him laugh. Though they did not say it aloud, they cared deeply for one another.

                “Soriel,” he said. “Where can I go to find out about Elrond’s council?”

                He had divulged to her that he was going to Rivendell to attend a council that Elrond called. His father sent him.

                “You will have to speak to his Seneschal, Glorfindel, and his Chief Counselor, Erestor,” she explained. “I can take you to their chambers if you wish.”

                “I do,” he told her.

                She led him up to Glorfindel first, as the Vanya was more open to this sort of thing than Erestor. Not that Erestor was unkind, but he could be harsh. Glorfindel had a kinder disposition.

                “Thank you, Soriel,” he said. “You may go now to see your friend.”

                “I know you have much to discuss,” she replied. “I will leave you to it.”

                She gazed at him for a moment longer, unsure of her feelings. Would Boromir be through with her now that he could no longer use her? As she looked in his eyes, she saw no indication that he no longer cared, but he was a difficult man to read.

                “Is there something else?” he asked.

                She shook her head. “No. I am leaving.” She turned and started down the corridor to Arwen’s chambers.

                “Soriel,” he called.

                She turned quickly to face him. “Yes, Boromir?”

                After several weeks together, he had allowed her to drop the formality of calling him “Captain” or “my lord.”

                “I will want to see you after the council,” he said.

                She beamed. “I will be with the Lady Arwen.”

                He smiled and nodded. Then he knocked on Glorfindel’s door and she watched him disappear inside.

                Soriel made her way to Arwen’s chambers and knocked lightly on the door, her heart racing from joy that Boromir still wished to see her. Arwen opened up and she too looked excited.

                “Arwen!” Soriel sighed and pulled her friend into a hug.

                “Soriel!” Arwen replied and gave a small squeeze. “It is wonderful to see you!”

                “You as well,” Soriel said and pulled away. “You are looking more radiant than ever. Is Aragorn in Imladris?”

                “He is,” Arwen confirmed. “He arrived not long before yourself. Now, he is sitting in my father’s council.”

                “I heard of that,” Soriel said. She followed Arwen inside her room and they sat at her table for some tea. “Do you have any idea what it might be for?”

                Arwen shook her head. “No decisions have been made as far as I can tell. Perhaps we will know more when it is over. Now, how was your journey? The same as usual?”

                “No, actually,” Soriel confessed. “This time, I met a Man on my way.”

                Arwen looked at her curiously as Soriel recounted her tale. The daughter of Elrond seemed intrigued by Boromir and the fondness Soriel had for him.

                “I do not understand,” Soriel said. “He is only a Man I travelled with.”

                “Aragorn is only a Man I met in my travels,” Arwen pointed out.

                Soriel’s mouth nearly dropped. “My friend, you are mistaken. I could not be in love with Boromir.”

                “Why not?” Arwen returned.

                “Fond as I am of Boromir, there are concerning things about him,” Soriel said. “His father is the Steward of Gondor, and Boromir is ambitious. Power and rank are of great importance to him. It seems as if he would not have the King of Men return to Minas Tirith, so his family could rule forever. Even if I did love Boromir, he could have no love for me, since I have neither power nor rank. I have nothing to offer him.”

                Arwen looked concerned. “How can you be sure your love would not satisfy him? He said he wished to see you again.”

                “I am certain that whatever feelings Boromir might have, he would not act on them,” Soriel argued. “No matter. The feelings are not there.”

                Arwen knew the topic to be dismissed, but she noticed that Soriel seemed distracted after that. In fact, Soriel’s mind was racing with questions. If Boromir did care, how would she react? Would she ever know? How did she truly feel?


	4. After the Council

Boromir left the Council of Elrond as a member of the Fellowship of the Ring. He still felt unsure why he had committed to such a thing. He knew that Gandalf and the others would advise Frodo against taking the ring to Minas Tirith, but he supposed he had to try. He felt like a fool going through all of this to try and sway the opinion of a Hobbit to save his city. He considered for a moment abandoning it all and going home where he knew he was needed. His brother, Faramir, was better at the sort of journey the Fellowship was to undertake. Boromir was a soldier. He knew only how to defend his city. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the Fellowship. Remembering Soriel, he asked how to get to Lady Arwen’s rooms, and made his way there to tell her the news.

                When he knocked on the door, it was Arwen who opened it. He saw Soriel behind her. She grinned when she saw him and she glided over to the door. Arwen stepped aside.

                “Can I speak to you?” he asked.

                Soriel agreed, said a brief goodbye to Arwen and followed him a ways down the corridor.

                “How was the council?” she wondered. “Did you find the answer to your dream?”

                “That does not matter anymore,” he began. Her brow furrowed as he told her of the plan to travel to Mordor and destroy the Ring of Power.

                “So, you plan to embark on this journey so that this child –” she began.

                “Hobbit,” he corrected her.

                “Boromir, please,” she said sternly. “You are going through all of this in the hope that he will take your suggestion and use this ring to defend Minas Tirith and the people of Gondor. Even if you did so, it would be against the better judgement of Mithrandir and Aragorn.”

                She had not spoken harshly, but he felt foolish once again.

                “Yes,” he said, disguising his feelings. “I must go. If I did not, I could never face my father.”

                “Boromir, this is just madness,” she continued. “How can you hope to persuade him? And why would you hope for it if you know it is wrong?”

                “It is as I said,” he protested. “I must do what my father sent me to do. I must take the chance.”

                In a display of affection that was strange to both of them, she cupped his cheek in her hand. He felt his heart skip a beat at the contact. Her palm was warm on his face. He almost closed his eyes.

                “Well, if you feel it is your duty, I cannot stop you,” she said. They held each other’s gaze intensely. “But I will carry you with me in my heart.”

                “Soriel…” he trailed off.

                She removed her hand but he took hold of it, interlocking his fingers with hers.

                “Come with me,” he said. “You would be useful since you have healing abilities.”

                “So does Aragorn,” she reminded him.

                “And if he fell?” he retorted. “Soriel, I want you by my side in this journey.”

                She was stunned. Such an emotional plea from Boromir was downright unnatural for him. She knew this was as close to begging as he would ever come. His eyes which were usually so hard to read were clearer than ever.

                “I also do not wish to be parted from you,” she said. “But we will need Lord Elrond’s permission. It was he who gave you this quest, so he must approve.”

                “I will speak to him,” he said.

He gave her hand a squeeze before hurrying back the way he came. Soriel never knew what Boromir said to Lord Elrond that day, but it must have worked because before the night was through, she too was a member of the Fellowship of the Ring.


	5. Swords and Spies

                The sword of Isildur was to be re-forged and given to Aragorn for the journey. Soriel thought it odd that a ranger from the north was the heir to the throne of Gondor, and she sensed Boromir’s opposition to him. Boromir introduced her to the other members of the Fellowship as well: Frodo Baggins, the ring bearer; Sam Gamgee, Frodo’s gardener; Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took, companions of Frodo’s; Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood, the Elven prince; Gimli, son of Glóin, a dwarf; and of course Gandalf, or Mithrandir as he was known to the Elves.

                The sword would take about two months to put back together, and they would need all the help they could get for their journey, provisions-wise. In this time, Boromir suggested he teach Soriel some basics of sword-handling so that she may defend herself if the need ever arose.

                “I am not sure this is wise, Boromir,” Soriel said nervously. She thought ladies had no real need to handle such weapons, and she was not certain it was right for her to go on this quest. But Boromir insisted, and she found she could deny him nothing.

                “Worry not, Soriel, I shall start you small,” he assured her, and he meant it, for he handed her a dagger. “Take this. If a Hobbit can wield a sword, you can certainly handle a knife.”

                Hesitantly, she took it from him.

                “I do not like this,” she said.

                He chuckled. “Come now. Even ladies must know some defense. In Rohan, they even have shield maidens.”

                “I am not a lady of Rohan,” she reminded him, holding the dagger as far away as she could.

                “It is only a blade, Soriel, it will not hurt you unless you allow it,” he said, laughing a little.

                “I have no clue what I am to do with it!” she protested.

                “That is precisely why we are here,” he said.

                She held back a groan as he began instructing her on basic thrusts and jabs. When he decided that was enough for one day they retired to the garden. They sat in a courtyard and watched the waterfalls of the surrounding mountains. Soriel loved Rivendell. Not that she did not adore her home in Lothlórien, but Imladris had more of a majesty to it.

                “Boromir,” she said suddenly. “Do you think the ring is too great a burden to place on a Hobbit? Frodo does not strike me as weak, but it seems to me a lot to ask of him.”

                “In fairness, he offered to take it himself at the council,” Boromir replied.

                “I am frightened for him,” she admitted. “He carries the fate of our world.”

                “He is not alone,” he said firmly.

                She looked at him as he stared out at the scenery. The low sunlight created a warm glow on his skin, as if he himself were creating it. It made his eyes a clear green and she could see every dark lash that hung above them. He looked very handsome in his determination.

                “It is true that Frodo carries the Ring itself,” he continued. “But the burden truly falls on us all. It is up to the Fellowship to ensure that we do not lose Frodo along the way, no matter what may come upon him.”

                His words made Soriel’s heart swell with pride. Boromir was truly accepting this mission now and he seemed to truly care for a little Hobbit. It was such a genuine and honorable sense she perceived. She admired Boromir now more than she ever had. In fact, it was this moment that she realized her feelings were something beyond friendship.

                The longer they stayed in Rivendell, the more Soriel saw how much Boromir had the capacity to care for others. He took Merry and Pippin on as students of the sword as well, and she adored watching him teach them. He was surprisingly patient and gentle with them. She appreciated him as a friend while they travelled to Rivendell, and now that they were here and she saw him with others, he actually impressed her as a man. She could now picture a life with Boromir at her side once the quest was over.

                They set out from Imladris as soon as Aragorn had his sword. He called it Andúril, Flame of the West. Soriel was not familiar with weapons, but it was the finest one she had ever laid eyes on. She was not the only one who was impressed. Boromir told her the story behind it, and he seemed to think the re-forged sword was equally as remarkable as the original.

                  When they left Imladris, Soriel felt herself become more nervous than she ever felt. She had never undertaken a journey like this, with such an important outcome, and it gave her such anxiety. Then she remembered she was truly doing this for Boromir, a man she cared about more than anyone. Next to Arwen, he had become her dearest friend. She told herself she would consider her true feelings for him at another time. The quest at hand was far more important. If they lived through that, perhaps they could discuss things like love.

                As they headed into the mountains, they took rest on the rocky mountainside, and decided to prepare a bit of lunch as well. Sam cooked, Aragorn and Gandalf smoked, Gimli and Legolas just tried to avoid one another, and Frodo sat off to the side. Soriel watched adoringly as Boromir instructed Merry and Pippin in some more sword fighting. Aragorn threw in an occasional comment as well.

                Soriel giggled when the Hobbits ended up teaming up on Boromir and tackled him to the ground and began to wrestle him in their playful manner. She laughed outright when Aragorn tried to come to Boromir’s aid and was taken down by the Hobbits as well when they tripped him.

                “What’s that?” Sam wondered aloud, pointing to something in the sky.

                “It is only a wisp of cloud,” Gimli said dismissively. He was upset that Gandalf refused his suggestion to go through the Mines of Moria to get through the mountains.

                “It’s moving fast,” Boromir pointed out as Soriel helped him to his feet. “Against the wind.”

                “Crebain from Dunland!” Legolas realized with a shout.

                “Hide!” Aragorn yelled.

                All at once, everyone scrambled to erase any trace of their brief settlement and get out of sight. Most everyone chose a rock to duck into. Sam put out the fire and joined Merry and Pippin under one. Frodo and Aragorn were under another. Gandalf was behind one a bit further up. Legolas was with Gimli behind another. Boromir took Soriel by the waist and pulled her with him beneath a bush. As they hid, he kept his arm around her, as if he could shield her himself from the spies of Saruman.

                The Crebain, which greatly resembled crows, flew over quickly, but all were hesitant to emerge. Gandalf was the first, staring after the birds as if they might suddenly turn back. Then came Aragorn with Frodo. Legolas and Gimli sprang away from one another, clearly disgusted by their slight cooperation. Now that her fear was gone, Soriel realized she was in Boromir’s arms. She blushed deeply. Boromir must have realized it too, for her pulled his arm away like a whip and jumped to his feet.

                “Sorry,” he said. He held his hand out to help her up.

                “No, it’s fine,” she assured him, but her face was still a light shade of pink.

                “What were those birds?” asked Pippin.

                “Spies for Saruman,” Gandalf answered. “And very dangerous. We must be on our way. Come now! Up the mountain!”

                They were off again, and Gandalf definitely seemed to be in more of a hurry. Soriel could not help but think about Boromir’s actions. He may not have been intentional, but they meant something. The way he held her told her that on some level, he cared more for her than he was willing to admit.


	6. The Mountains

The Company climbed higher and higher into the mountains until they reached where it snowed ceaselessly. They were on the way up and the sun shone brightly off the blanket of snow. Soriel walked with Boromir. She was admiring his cloak when Frodo tripped and fell several feet backwards, causing the Company to halt. Aragorn got Frodo straightened out, but the Ring had fallen from around his neck.

                All eyes were on Boromir who picked it up. He held it in front of his face and gazed almost longingly at it.

                “Boromir,” Aragorn said.

                “It is a strange fate we must suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing,” Boromir said contemplatively. “Such a little thing.”

                He started to take hold of it with both hands but Aragorn stopped him.

                “Boromir!” Aragorn repeated harshly. “Give the Ring to Frodo.”

                Boromir hesitated. Soriel stepped toward him.

                “Boromir!” she called.

                He turned back to look at her. Her eyes were narrowed at him. She was worried.

                He turned away again and slowly stepped toward Frodo, holding the chain out to the Hobbit, who snatched it back.

                “As you wish,” Boromir said with a halfhearted chuckle. “I care not.”

He ruffled Frodo’s hair and then returned to Soriel. He looked at her for a moment and continued on his way. Soriel locked eyes with Aragorn just as he was taking his hand off of his sword. He tried to seem apologetic, but he didn’t convince her. No one trusted Boromir. Soriel stayed silent as they pressed on.  

                They finally made it to Caradhras, but a terrible winter storm hit. The Hobbits were freezing. Boromir had to carry Merry and Pippin, while Aragorn helped Frodo along. Sam refused to be carried since he was leading his pony, Bill. Legolas had offered to lead Bill so Sam could be helped, but the latter was too attached to his faithful steed.

                The snow was deep, so Gandalf was forging a path at the front of the group. Legolas and Soriel were able to walk atop the snow. The two Elves were also not terribly cold. Soriel suddenly almost ran into the back of Legolas who had come to a stop.

                “That sound,” he said. “A voice on the wind. It sounds as if there is a wounded animal somewhere.”

                Soriel strained her ears to hear it. “I cannot be sure it is an animal,” she said. “But there is a creature in need.”

                “Forget about it!” Gimli added. “What need have we for an animal?”

                Legolas had already taken off in the direction of the sound. He returned very quickly, looking stricken.

                “What is it?” Soriel asked.

                “A woman,” he answered. “She is…birthing a child. But she is alone!”

                “We must help her!” Soriel exclaimed. “Take me there!”

                She did not wait for the agreement of the Fellowship. If they left her behind for this, then so be it, but a woman could not give birth alone. Legolas led Soriel to a cave just up the path. It was considerably larger on the inside, as most of the outside was buried in snow. There was nothing inside save a fire and indeed a woman. She was actually an Elf. Her fair face was drenched with sweat, plastering her hair to her head. Her breath was ragged and tired. Soriel flew to her side.

                “Can you hear me?” Soriel asked.

                The woman nodded.

                “I am going to help you,” Soriel continued. “My name is Soriel.”

                The woman could only nod again. She was in a great deal of pain.

                “Legolas, sit behind her and support her back,” Soriel instructed, and he did so. It was then the rest of the Company made it there.

                “Sam!” Soriel called. “Start heating up some water! Quick! Merry, there are some herbs in my bag that have blue flowers, feed them to her! It will help ease her pain! I also need any cloth anyone can spare! Now!”

                Everyone jumped into action. Aragorn even erected a small tent to put just over Soriel and the woman in order to give a bit of privacy. When everything was done and she had to push, the rest of the Fellowship left the cave as much as they could. They did not like hearing her scream.

                Boromir stared as Soriel had taken control of the cave. She was not a demanding woman, and he was impressed to see her resilience in this emergency. He felt a bit proud of her. That feeling he tried to push away, as it implied something that crossed many lines. He knew that he cared about Soriel a lot, but so many other things were important now.

                The woman birthed the baby within a few hours. It was a long and drawn out process. When all was said and done, Soriel emerged from the makeshift shelter, but tears were streaming down her face. The baby was not crying or moving. Everyone understood.

                “How is she?” asked Legolas.

                Soriel shook her head. “She is asleep. The little boy however…”

                “Do we know anything about her?” wondered Aragorn.

                “She told me before she fell asleep that her name is Leila, but that is all,” Soriel told him. “I don’t know who or where the father is.”

                Boromir watched Soriel hold the child and a different picture came to his mind. She was smiling from ear to ear in a nursery within the walls of the White City. A different baby was in her arms, but it was laughing and wiggling happily in her arms. His baby.

                He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. He was to be the next Steward of Gondor. There could be no marriage between himself and a common Elf such as Soriel. But, in his heart, he knew he desired it.

                “This is a waste of time,” said Gimli. “The child must be buried so we can move on.”

                “Gimli is right,” Gandalf agreed. “We have wasted enough precious time here as it is.”

                Soriel flared up a little. “How can you say such an awful thing? If we had not helped, Leila might have died as well!”

                “That is not our concern,” Gandalf returned. “Tragic as it might have been, we have a quest to complete.”

                Another tear leaked out and made its way down her cheek. “That’s cruel. How can we say we care for the people of Middle Earth if we would allow her to die?”

                “There is nothing else we can do for her,” Gandalf said.

                Aragorn stepped in, and Soriel feared he would agree to leave Leila behind.

                “I think we should bring her along,” he said.

                Soriel’s face lit up.

                “I would not feel right leaving her here all alone,” Aragorn continued. “And we must give her the news of her child. Also, I think she must have some fighting ability. There are two swords in the back of the cave.”

                Pippin suddenly interrupted. “Pardon me, but we dug a small grave for the baby.”

                Soriel looked at the Hobbit with such a fondness she might have kissed him.

                “How thoughtful,” she said.

                She followed him and together, she and the Hobbits buried the poor baby. Her heart ached for its mother, who had worked so hard to bring something bereft of life. She felt emotion well up inside her again, but swallowed hard to stop it.

                When the baby was buried, there came the time to handle Leila. Aragorn’s insistence on taking her along, with all of her things clearly annoyed Gandalf, but he was outvoted. The rest of the Fellowship said they did not want to abandon her to the harshness of the mountain. So together, Boromir and Aragorn lifted Leila into Bill’s saddle and secured her there.

                Everyone seemed loathe to re-enter the snowstorm. It raged on outside the cave, so they paused a moment at its mouth. Gimli was the first to voice his thoughts once again.

                “If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it,” he said. “Let us take the Mines of Moria.”

                Gandalf shot him an irritated look. First they had to take this woman along and now Gimli wanted to disrupt his plans yet again by going through the mines. Soriel felt a little guilty.

                “It would be foolish to try the pass,” Boromir agreed. “The Hobbits barely made it this far up the mountain.”

                Gandalf looked at Frodo. “We will let the Ring Bearer decide.”

                All eyes turned on Frodo, who only struggled for a moment with his decision. He agreed to go through the mines as well. Gandalf sighed but allowed it, so the Company left the cave, and Soriel felt her heart break once again for the lifeless child they left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out Leila's full story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629558/chapters/31297209   
> Leila is my sister's OC and the fic is amazing!


	7. The Mines of Moria

                The Company made its way back down the mountain pass. They stopped about halfway down at nightfall so the Hobbits and Men could rest. It was then that Leila awoke. She stirred on Bill’s back, and seemed incredibly disturbed. Clearly, she did not remember much. She locked eyes with Soriel, who got to her feet and went to explain.

                “Hello again,” Soriel said.

                “I remember you,” Leila returned, her voice hoarse from its previous bout of screaming as she gave birth.

                “That is well,” Soriel assured her with a smile.

                Boromir started to come and help Leila down, but she recoiled from him. Soriel waved him away and then glanced at Legolas to come instead. He picked up on the idea, and moved quickly. Leila was perfectly happy to allow him to help her down. The Elves moved off to the side, as Leila was visibly uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on her.

                “The baby,” she said. “What happened to it?”

                Even though she was asking, Soriel got the distinct impression Leila was not particularly concerned about the baby. It made what she had to say even more uncomfortable. Thankfully, Legolas took initiative.

                “He was stillborn,” he said. “I’m very sorry. We buried him in the cave before we left.”

                Leila took this in. Her expression was very difficult to read. She still seemed dazed from the trauma of childbirth, and was now reeling from this new development that it was all for naught. Soriel placed a comforting hand on Leila’s shoulder.

                “If you need a moment to grieve –”

                “No,” Leila cut across. “It is better this way.”

                Soriel and Legolas exchanged confused looks.

                “Well, there is just one more question,” Soriel said. “The father. How can we get you to him? Was he not with you on the mountain?”

                Leila shook her head. “There is no father. I was alone. Please, ask me no more.”

                Soriel nodded, but her mind was racing with more questions. She could tell Legolas was equally as confused.

                “You are welcome to part ways now,” Legolas offered. “You are under no oath to continue with us any further. You may not want to, as we are headed under the mountain.”

                “Where to after that?” asked Leila.

                “We cannot yet say,” Soriel told her.

                Gandalf walked over to join their conversation. It was all in Elvish, but he switched to Common Tongue.

                “I’m sorry, but I must interject,” he said. “Now that she has seen our company, I cannot permit her to leave. Secrecy is imperative and we do not know to whom she may speak if she leaves.”

                “Mithrandir, she has been through enough,” Soriel protested. “You would take her prisoner?”

                “Please,” said Leila. “I will continue on willingly. I have nothing to return to.”

                “Very well,” said Gandalf. “Can you handle those swords you have?”

                “Yes,” she assured him.

                With a nod and an odd gleam in his eye, he allowed her to join them, though they were not allowed to tell her yet what the quest was for. She knew nothing of the Ring.

                They pressed on and reached the mines by nightfall. The entrance took them to a door that was in front of a lake. Gandalf attempted to open the door. Despite several spells and passwords, he was unsuccessful at opening it. As the company waited, Aragorn had Sam say goodbye to Bill, as the mines would not be good for a pony. Merry and Pippin threw rocks into the lake before they were stopped by Aragorn. Then they went over to talk to Leila, who had taken a seat by herself. Soriel went over to Boromir, and sat beside him.

                “So far the journey has been only sitting and waiting,” he joked.

                She smiled. “We should be thankful for such a journey.”

                “I agree,” he said “Although I feel we prepared for much more.”

                “There is much more to come.”

                She rested her head on his shoulder.

                Suddenly, Frodo spoke up. “It’s a riddle!” he cried, and looked at Gandalf. “What’s the Elvish word for friend?”

                “Mellon,” Gandalf answered.

                To the company’s great surprise and relief, the door swung open. They all made their way inside but then took in the sight. The remains of Dwarves were all around them. All had been slain, as they had arrows sticking out of their bones. Soriel let out a gasp.

                “We should never have come here,” said Boromir and Gimli wailed in grief for his family.

                The company began to turn back, but a tentacle shot out from the lake and took hold of Frodo by the ankle, yanking him up and away.

                “Strider!” Sam called and Aragorn whipped around.

                He and Boromir rushed into the lake to cut down the monster. They cut at the tentacles with their swords until finally it released Frodo. It dropped him from a great height, and Boromir caught him. The creature came toward the shore, so the Company retreated into the mines once again. A mighty tentacle struck the doorway, and it collapsed, trapping them inside. Thankfully, everyone was unhurt.

                Gandalf lit the chamber with his staff and they began walking. It was going to be a few days journey to the exit. The Hobbits grew weary quickly and often required carrying, as Gandalf did not like to stop for long. One thing that brought Soriel joy was seeing that Merry and Pippin made Leila laugh a lot. Given how sad she had been before, this was a beautiful sight. When they met, it seemed Leila was fading. In the Company, she was regaining her former Elvish light.

                They at last reached at place where Gandalf did not know the way. The path to the left went up some stairs, the path to the right went down some stairs, or they continue forward on level ground. Gandalf stopped them so he could decide. The stop was not brief. It lasted for hours. Soriel wondered briefly if the days had changed, since it was always so dark in the mines.

                Finally, Gandalf stood and announced that they would be taking the path to the right as it smelled the most fresh. Soriel made a mental note to keep the advice about following your nose when in doubt. Some of the Company seemed wary of such methods, but followed anyway.

                They walked through a large ballroom like room with a pattern of pillars throughout. Soriel did not like mines much but even she had to admit she was impressed. It was something grand to behold. Off to the side, there was a room. When they looked inside, they found another horrific scene. More slaughtered Dwarves. It was the Tomb of Balin, Lord of Moria. Balin was a cousin of Gimli’s. Gimli wept openly at the sight as Gandalf read the epitaph. Boromir put an arm round the Dwarf’s shoulders in comfort.

                Gandalf then discovered a thick, leather bound book. The sloppy Dwarfish scrawl revealed what had become of the Dwarves of Moria. They had been cornered in this room and slaughtered by goblins and trolls. The wizard read aloud this account as Gimli grieved. It sent a shiver down Soriel’s spine as she wondered what else might reside within in the mines.

                A sudden bang rang out, as Pippin had accidentally sent a skeleton down a mine shaft. It banged and clanged its way down as the Hobbit flinched upon each sound. It landed with a soft thud at the bottom. The Company held its breath, save Leila, who actually snorted trying to hold back her laughter. Gandalf snatched his things from Pippin’s grasp.

                “Fool of a Took!” he scolded. “Throw yourself down next time and rid us of your stupidity!”

                Soriel thought this rather harsh, but said nothing. The pounding of the drums was enough to frighten them all into silence. Whatever had come for the Dwarves was now coming for them. Before they knew it, Aragorn and Boromir were barricading the door with whatever they could find. They backed away and readied themselves for a fight.

                Soriel swallowed hard. She had never had to test what little fighting ability she had learned back in Imladris. She looked at Boromir and inwardly, she put all her faith in him and what he taught her. She trusted in that as she watched the door to the dungeon break and the monsters start piling in.

                Everyone was killing orcs, even the Hobbits with the short swords Aragorn gave them before they even got to Rivendell. Leila was indeed skilled with her blades, slashing and swiping orcs away. Soriel was also caught up in the battle, and she began feeling overwhelmed. She was so overwhelmed that she did not even realize that an orc was behind her and so was Leila. Soriel turned around to see Leila drive her sword through the orc’s chest. The orc had its arm raised, its blade brandished, and ready to strike Soriel in her back. It fell to the stone floor. Leila and Soriel locked eyes.

                “You saved me,” Leila said simply.

                Soriel could only nod.

                When they regrouped, the cave troll entered. It tore through the Company and Soriel found herself unable to help. Instead, she backed herself into a corner and watched it all unfold. The troll pursued Frodo, knocked out Aragorn, and was not put to a stop until at last Legolas delivered the final blow to its head. All watched as Frodo miraculously survived a fatal wound thanks to his mithril coat. Soriel sighed in relief. Then they had to move on.

                They ran again through a similar ballroom chamber to get to the bridge to get them out. They were stopped though when more orcs and goblins emerged and completely surrounded them. They growled and spit threateningly. Boromir got in front of Soriel and Leila got behind her. She honestly never felt safer.

                A red glow came from around the corner. The goblins and orcs began to scatter and flee. Whatever was coming was much worse than anything they had seen before. Gandalf told them all to just run, and they did as they were told. Boromir took the lead and went through a doorway at the end of the chamber. He almost ran right off a flight of stairs.

                “No!” Soriel cried, and she and Leila took hold of his shoulders and pulled him back from tumbling off the cliff side.

                To their immediate left was a staircase leading to the bridge of Khazad-dûm. They continued running. Soriel felt her chest grow tight as her breathing picked up. Sweat was forming on her brow. When they were going down yet another flight of stairs, they reached a gap in the path. Legolas fearlessly took the first leap to the other side. Gandalf followed. Then Boromir took Soriel’s hand.

                “You next!” he shouted and wrapped his other arm around her waist.

                She glanced nervously at him, but once again allowed herself to put her faith in him. He gave her a push to get to the other side where Legolas caught and balanced her. Boromir offered a hand to Leila, who did not allow him to touch her. She leaned back and launched herself forward, taking hold of Legolas as she landed as well. Gimli followed, as well as the Hobbits, save Frodo and Aragorn, who got even further stuck when a piece fell from the ceiling and separated them more.

                Aragorn waited until the side he and Frodo were on leaned back and then forward toward the rest of the Company. Soriel watched anxiously, and took hold of Boromir’s hand. He interlocked his fingers with hers and looked on as well. To their relief, both Aragorn and Frodo made it across and they continued on their way toward the bridge. As they ran, Boromir did not release Soriel’s hand.

                They finally made it across the bridge. Aragorn and Boromir stayed behind and made sure the others made it out of the mine. But Gandalf had stopped on the bridge and was confronting the Balrog head on. It was the most terrifying thing Soriel had ever seen. A massive creature of flame with horns and claws. Soriel had to fight every urge to run as fast as she could out of the mine and leave the others behind. She could not help but watch as Gandalf shouted and stopped the Balrog from passing. With a slam of his staff, he broke the bridge. The Balrog fell and Gandalf turned away from it. That was not the end. The whip took Gandalf by the ankle and he had to hang on the edge of the bridge. Aragorn seemed to struggle with the instinct to go and help him.

                “Fly, you fools,” Gandalf said, and let go, falling with his enemy down the mine.

                Frodo screamed and started back toward the bridge. Boromir at last let go of Soriel’s hand to stop Frodo. He called for Aragorn as arrows began whizzing by, just missing them. They had to get out of the mine. Soriel placed a hand on Boromir’s shoulder and started to guide him out as well.

                With deepest regret, they made for the exit. They emerged on a rocky edge, and the Hobbits sat and mourned for Gandalf. The rest of the Fellowship were lost for words, wrapped up in their own grief. Soriel looked at Leila. The two women had not known Gandalf very well, but the shock was still there.

                “Legolas,” Aragorn said, taking control of the Company. “Get them up.”

                “Let them have a moment for pity’s sake,” Boromir protested.

                Soriel felt her heart warm at his plea on behalf of the Hobbits. These moments were who Boromir truly was.

                “By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs,” Aragorn continued. “Get them up.”

                Legolas obeyed, as did Boromir, but he clearly felt conflicted. Soriel and Leila had to help as well, since Gimli was insisting they go back and find the old wizard. When everyone was ready, even if they were still in tears, the Company prepared to go to Lothlórien.

                Aragorn looked at the entrance of the mine once more. “Farewell, Gandalf,” he said, and then turned away.

                The others followed him. Aragorn was the clear leader now. They all left, regretting leaving their friend behind. But, Soriel felt excitement in her heart knowing they were headed toward her home.


	8. Lothlórien

Soriel was thrilled to be going to her home, but sad at the circumstances surrounding them. They lost Gandalf and with him, much of their hope. As they entered the wood, Gimli proceeded to tell the Hobbits about an “elf witch” who resided there. Soriel had to stifle her laughter. Galadriel was no witch, but the Dwarf’s tale was amusing.

                They nearly walked right into a circle of arrows, fitted to their strings. They were surrounded by a group of Elves. Soriel recognized their leader.

                “The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark,” he said.

                “Haldir!” Soriel said, and rushed forward to greet him.

                His eyes widened at the sight of her, but then he smiled as he embraced her. She heard Boromir huff and scowl.

“Soriel!” Haldir returned. “My dear friend! I thought you were in Imladris!”

                “It’s a very long story,” she said. “For now, we need refuge.”

                Unfortunately, Haldir would not allow them into Lothlórien. He and the others could sense the evil of the One Ring and Soriel understood his hesitation. She and Aragorn pleaded with Haldir to allow them in, explaining everything to him. At long last, he agreed to guide them inside.

                The Company met with Celeborn and Galadriel, Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. They were dismayed to hear of the fall of Gandalf, but were otherwise greeted fairly warmly. They could at least stay in the forest for a time and recover. Soriel saw Boromir start to sweat and he averted his eyes from the Lady Galadriel.

                When they were finished, Soriel invited Leila to stay with her in her dwelling and the men could stay where the Lord and Lady bid them. Leila agreed to this, as Soriel had an extra room. They were all in flets situated in the trees. Gimli and the Hobbits were visibly uncomfortable, being creatures that usually dwell in the ground. Before they parted ways, Soriel asked Aragorn if she could tell Leila about the quest now that they had come this far with her.

                “She did save my life,” Soriel said. “I believe we can trust her.”

                “Very well,” Aragon agreed.

                When they arrived at Soriel’s dwelling, the women sat down to talk. Soriel explained everything she knew about the Ring and the quest to destroy it. Leila seemed surprisingly on board for joining their cause, but she had questions.

                “To get to Mordor,” she said. “Will we go through Gondor?”

                Soriel shook her head. “No. We must be more discreet. I believe we will go into Mordor from its northern border.”

                Leila sighed in relief. “Good.”

                Soriel shot her a questioning look.

                “It’s just that Gondor is not safe,” Leila said, though she seemed to scramble for an explanation. “I have been there as of late, and have seen first-hand the power of the enemy in those lands.”

                Soriel nodded. “Yes. Boromir has often spoken to me of how much Gondor endures from the lands of Sauron.”

                “Well, it is natural for a husband to express his concerns to his wife,” Leila said simply.

                Soriel blinked. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

                “Well, my father often tells my mother the things weighing on him –”

                “No, Leila,” Soriel interrupted. “I mean, what gave you the idea that Boromir is my husband?”

                “Is he not?” Leila asked.

                “No!” Soriel cried, a little too defensively.

                “Do you want him to be?”

                “I –” Soriel stopped dead. Truthfully, she wanted that very much, but she had to be realistic. “Even if I did want it, it could not be.” She shook her head quickly. “But what made you think so?!”

                “You rely on him so much,” Leila explained. “He often holds your hand. You exchange many knowing smiles and glances, as if you’ve known one another for years. You just seemed quite happily married to each other.

                “You got that from knowing us hardly a fortnight?!” Soriel gasped.

“Yes,” Leila said. “Why is it so impossible?”

                Soriel sighed. She then explained everything to Leila that she told Arwen. Boromir was to inherit the Stewardship of Gondor. Soriel could offer him nothing.

                “I do not believe your reasoning,” Leila said. “It sounds to me like an excuse to keep your feelings inside.”

                “Leila, I am only saying what he would say,” Soriel argued. “It’s the truth.”

                “I think he loves you,” Leila said. “What can it hurt to be honest with one another?”

                “There are so many other things at stake,” Soriel said. “The quest is more important, and who knows what will happen after that?”

                Leila shrugged. “I am only thinking of your happiness. The quest is important but so are you.” She got to her feet. “Anyway, Merry and Pippin have promised to teach me a game from the Shire. Would you like to join us?”

                Soriel shook her head. “No, thank you. I wish to relax and recover.”

                Leila bid her farewell and departed. Soriel went to her room and laid on her bed. She had to consider things now that a newcomer had assumed she and Boromir were married based solely on their behavior. Were they really so obvious? She would like to think not, but it was apparently so. She tried to convince herself that Leila was mistaken, but she had spoken true. Soriel relied very much on Boromir. It was her faith in him that got her through the mines. They did clasp hands and lock eyes a lot. They had done so countless times since they met, she just did not realize it was odd in front of the others. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a soft knock at the entrance of her dwelling. She went out and was surprised to see who it was.

                “Boromir!” she gasped. “What brings you here?”

                “I wish to see you,” he returned. “I am sorry if it is not a good time.”

                “No, it is a perfect time,” she assured him. “Please, come in.”

                He did so, and then faced her.

                “The Elf man,” he began. “Haldir. What is your relationship to him?”

                Soriel remembered his earlier behavior and almost laughed.

                “He is only a very old friend,” she said. “Don’t tell me you are jealous.”

                He looked at the floor for a moment as if very interested in his own boots.

                “No matter,” he mumbled.

                “Is there anything else?” she asked.

                “Yes,” he said, with more confidence. “How much do you know about this Galadriel woman?”

                “Well, we are not bosom friends, but I know of her,” she told him. “What of it?”

                He seemed to grow agitated at this part. “When we arrived here I heard her voice in my head. She spoke of my father and the fate of my people. She told me there is still hope…but I’m not so sure.”

                “What are you unsure of?” she wondered.

                “Myself,” he answered honestly. “The strength of my country is failing and I feel I am failing. I am off on this quest when my people need me most. But then I am told this is what is best for my people and all people at that. I am no longer sure of what is right or if I am fit to lead.”

                She considered this for a moment. “Boromir, when we were in the mines of Moria, I had faith in one thing. Have you any idea what that was?”

                He shook his head. “No.”

                “It was you,” she told him, and approached him. She placed her hand on his cheek. “I had faith in you because I know who you are and how strong you are. You are a noble man. A good man. And also…just a man. You make mistakes, but you carry on. It is these qualities which earn you the faith and love of your people.”

                “And what of you, Soriel?” he asked suddenly. “What of your faith and love?”

                She looked very hard at him, and brought her other hand to caress his cheek. “You have always had my faith and love.”

                She felt his arms wrap around her waist and he pulled her close. Her arms coiled around his neck. This contact of their bodies made Soriel’s heart rate pick up. She felt his as well. It comforted her to know he was just as nervous.

                “And you have had mine,” he told her.

                “Even as horribly as I spoke to you that day we met?” she asked with a laugh.

                He chuckled. “Well, perhaps some time afterward.”

                She grinned as he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. It was passionate and romantic. Their lips moved in harmony like moon pushing and pulling the tide. She led him to her room, and then he knew her as he would a wife.  

                Soriel had never been happier in her life than when she awoke in Boromir’s arms.


	9. The News

The Company remained in Lothlórien for a little over a month. Leila spent a great deal of time with Legolas. Soriel and Boromir continued what they were doing and Soriel was thrilled to be with him. Just before they were set to depart, Soriel confirmed that she was pregnant. Now, she was conflicted on what to do about it.

                 She decided that the first person she would tell would be Leila. The opportunity presented itself as the two were packing some things a few days before they left. Soriel made her way into Leila’s room and did not bother to knock. Manners seemed unimportant now and the two were close enough.

                “Oh!” Leila gasped, in a pleasantly surprised way. “I was not expecting this, but hello anyway.”

                Soriel did not reply. She looked at the ground. Now that she was here she had no idea what to say.

                “What troubles you, my friend?” Leila asked.

                “I have some news,” Soriel told her, still unable to meet her gaze.

                “What is it?” Leila pressed.

                “It is difficult to say,” Soriel continued.

                “I find difficult news is best spoken plainly,” Leila replied.

                “I’m going to have a baby,” Soriel finally said. “Boromir is the father.”

                Leila blinked. “Well, I cannot say I’m surprised. He has spent almost every night with you.”

                Soriel blushed. “Yes. But I have no idea what to do.”

                “Have you told Boromir?” Leila asked.

                Soriel shook her head. “Not yet. I wanted to ask you what to do first.”

                “Tell him,” Leila said. “And soon. Before we leave.”

                “But when?” Soriel wondered. “It is not good news.”

                “Why not?” Leila wondered.

                “Because!” Soriel cried. “He is to be the Steward of Gondor one day! Now he is going to have an illegitimate child! This is a disgrace!”

                Leila placed a calming hand on Soriel’s shoulder. “There are more disgraceful ways to bring a child, believe me. But you and Boromir have love between you, and it was that love which brought this child. Trust in that.”

                Soriel heaved a sigh, and with Leila’s advice in mind left her dwelling to find Boromir. She felt as if there was a knot in her stomach she was so nervous. She knew that he would not be happy. She knocked slowly on his door. He answered quickly.

                “Hello, love,” he said.

                “Can I speak to you?” she replied.

                “You are speaking to me,” he joked.

                “Boromir, please, this is serious,” she returned, now on the verge of tears. “There is something I must tell you.”

                His brow furrowed in confusion. “Come in.”

                She followed him inside and he closed the door.

                “What is this news?” he asked.

                She blinked back tears. “Boromir…I am not sure how to say this.”

                “Soriel,” he said, and took her hands. “Fear not. I love you.”

                “I…I am with child,” she said finally. “There is no doubt.”

                He nearly dropped her hands. “Oh.”

                “I know this is a terrible time,” she continued. “I will remain here for a while until it is born –”

                “No,” he said. “No one can know this.”

                “Everyone will have to know at some point,” she said.

                “We must marry before then,” he continued, pacing. “Immediately. We will go to Minas Tirith from the Gap of Rohan when we get there.”

                “You want me to carry on with the quest carrying a child?” she questioned. “There is danger around every corner, who knows what might happen?”

                “No, we can tell no one until we are married,” he said. “I will explain to my father. He will not be happy about the inferiority of your birth, but he will eventually understand.”

                She narrowed her eyes at him. “Boromir, we are not taking the Gap of Rohan. We are going down the river to the Falls of Rauros, and then through Emyn Muil. There is no time to go to your city. And even so, it is no longer safe for me to travel.”

                “You are not staying here to reveal to the world our sin,” he said harshly. “You are coming with us. That is not a request.”

                “I am not your subject to command,” she retorted, raising herself to her full height. “If I am to be your wife then you would do well to respect me as such.”

                “If you are to be my wife, you will do as I say,” he came back with. “This is not a subject of debate. My child will not be birthed among the Elves. Somehow, we will find a way to Minas Tirith, marry, and you will remain there. Until we can make that happen, the child will be a secret.”

                “Leila knows,” Soriel admitted. “But I will have her contain it if that is your wish.”

                “And my other wish?” he asked. “For you to continue with us until I can get you to Minas Tirith?”

                “I will do as you will, Boromir,” she conceded. “I already consider you my husband and I know my place. But bear this in mind, I will not risk the child. If at any moment I feel he is in danger –”

                “I know,” he said. “I will not let any harm come to our baby.”

                As they talked about their child, they both softened, it seemed.

                “You said ‘he’,” Boromir said. “How can you be sure it’s a boy?”

                She smiled. “I know.”

                The corners of his mouth turned up. “A boy, then. What shall we call him?”

                She chuckled. “Let us focus first on getting him home. In the meantime, you may think of what to call him.”

                “Yes,” he said. “Home.”

                Soriel left to tell Leila that it was a secret.

                Days later, they received their gifts from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel and got into their canoes. Going by river would help them escape the trail of what Celeborn warned were incredibly powerful orcs. Soriel stepped into her boat with Boromir, Merry, and Pippin, and the Company said goodbye to Lothlórien.  


	10. Farewell to Boromir

               The Company traveled down the Great River toward the Falls of Rauros. Soriel watched the shore go by and wondered about the fate of her child. How would the rest of the quest go? Could she make it to Minas Tirith in time? If not, would she end up like poor Leila and lose her baby? She could hardly stand the thought of it.

                A ways down the river Boromir pointed out to them the Argonath, statues of old Kings of Gondor, who appeared to be guarding the way into the falls. Soriel looked upon the greatness of old and was impressed. It actually made her think of Arwen, as Aragorn was kin to these men. When they had a son, they would be his ancestors. Soriel thought that Arwen would like that, and she ought to see these. Then her thoughts returned to her own child. If Arwen and Aragorn did have a baby, would they be pitted against one another for control of Gondor? The way Boromir spoke, it seemed Denethor was unlikely to relinquish his hold.

                They stopped to rest on the western shore of the falls. Soriel still felt overwhelmed with what lay before her. Gimli began rattling off the path ahead for the Company. Frodo went to think about his choices as well. Take the ring to Mordor or follow Boromir’s advice and go to Minas Tirith. Legolas and Aragorn discussed whether it was best to travel by day or by night, and Leila backed up Legolas. Merry, Pippin, and Sam ate and listened to Gimli. Boromir was gone.

                It was this realization that made Soriel forget for a moment her thoughts about her child, and now she wondered about its father. Where was her beloved warrior?

                “Where is Mr. Frodo?” asked Sam.

                “And where is Boromir?” Soriel added.

                Aragorn looked around. He sighed heavily. “Let’s look for them. Leila, Soriel, I need you two to stay here and guard the boats, and watch in case either of them return.”

                “Alright,” Leila said. “Be careful.”

                The two women watched them go. When they were hidden by the trees, Soriel and Leila sat down on the ground. They talked for a bit and then Leila started cleaning her weapons. Soriel began to picture her life with Boromir when all was said and done. They would be living in Minas Tirith, of course. Soriel had never seen the city, but Boromir had given her a very good description in their travels. Their son was handsome and well-loved. The daydream was interrupted by the sudden blowing of a horn.

                “Is that an orc horn?” wondered Leila.

                “No,” Soriel said quietly. “It must be…”

                “What?” Leila asked.          

                “The Horn of Gondor,” Soriel said. “Boromir.”

                They jumped to their feet and ran into the woods, following the sounds of the horn. The sounds stopped abruptly.

                “Boromir!” Soriel cried desperately. “Boromir, where are you?!”

                “Legolas!” Leila exclaimed. She saw him coming through the trees, Gimli at his heels.

                “The sound of the horn is this way,” Legolas called, and they followed him. “Beware! Orcs are all about!”

                They took off the in the direction they had last heard the horn.

                Boromir struggled to breathe as he spoke to Aragorn, knowing these were his dying words. Aragorn had so far promised not to let Minas Tirith fall, but he had one more request of him.

                “Soriel,” Boromir wheezed. “Look after her. She carries my son within her now.”

                He saw Aragorn’s eyes widen, but he recovered quickly.

                “No harm will come to her,” he promised.

                “I would have followed you my brother,” Boromir said. “My captain. My king.”

                Soriel and the others came upon the place Boromir lay. Aragorn was bent over him and they were surrounded by orc corpses. Boromir had three arrows lodged in his torso. Soriel felt tears stream down her face as she heard his heart beat for the last time. For a moment, she thought hers would stop as well. She walked slowly over to his body, and Aragorn gave her room. She knelt down beside him and took his gloved hand.

                “Farewell, Boromir, my love,” she said, and a tear splashed onto his chest. Then she kissed his unmoving lips. Lips that would never again kiss her back. “Be at peace.”

                Aragorn and Legolas moved Boromir’s body into one of the boats. They surrounded him with the weapons of his enemies as well as his own belongings. Then they let him go down the river and over the falls. Legolas and Aragorn sang for him, but Soriel did not sing. Her grief was beyond words, in Elvish, Dwarfish, or the Tongues of Men.


	11. Éomer of Rohan

                Aragorn informed the rest of the group what Boromir said before he died. The Uruk-hai had taken Merry and Pippin captive. Frodo and Sam would be going alone, and they would go to retrieve Merry and Pippin. Soriel made a silent vow to herself that Boromir’s death would not be in vain.

                The presence of the others while Boromir lay dying revealed the secret of their child, and Soriel was relieved that she would not have to tell everyone now. It was painful to think about now that Boromir was gone.

                They traveled on foot. Aragorn followed the footprints of the Uruks, his tracking skill honed after being a Ranger for as long as he was. When they were beyond the woods, Legolas and Leila would run ahead and get the group in their sights, and call back the direction to Aragorn and the rest. It was a lot of running, but Soriel did her best to keep up. They ran for three days.

                “Legolas!” Aragorn called to the Elf who had jogged ahead once more. “What do your Elf eyes see?”

                “The Uruks turn northeast!” Legolas shouted back. “They’re taking the Hobbits to Isengard!”

                Aragorn decided they must pick up the pace. Staying on their trail was imperative. They continued on and at last they looked upon the country of Rohan. As they ran, Leila tripped. Legolas reacted quickly and caught her in his arms. They smiled bashfully at one another.

                This sent an awful pang of jealously through Soriel. Leila and Legolas were at the beginning stages of love, it seemed. Soriel would never feel the arms of her love again. It felt so brutally unfair. Soriel felt lonelier than ever. Tears sprang up in her eyes but blinked them back. She had to focus on Merry and Pippin now.

                They came to a halt only when Aragorn spotted something on the ground. It was a leaf from the cloaks of Lothlórien. It had to belong to one of the Hobbits.

                “Not idly to the leaves of Lórien fall,” Aragorn said.

                “They may yet be alive,” Legolas added. He looked behind at Gimli. “Come, Gimli!”

                The group continued on for even longer, when they heard the rumbling of hooves. They dove into the cover a rock formation, but Aragorn apparently recognized the riders. He left their hiding place and his companions followed.    

                “Riders of Rohan!” Aragorn shouted. “What news from the Mark?”

                The riders turned and surrounded them, spears brandished. The leader emerged from the group and confronted them.

                “What business does a Man, three Elves, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?” he demanded. “Speak quickly!”

                “You give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine,” Gimli said bravely.

                The leader’s eyes flashed as he looked at Gimli. “I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if only it stood higher from the ground.”

                “He does not stand alone!” Legolas flared up and fit his arrow to the string. “You would die before your stroke fell.”

                Aragorn put his hand on Legolas’s bow, forcing him to lower it. Legolas and the man glared at one another still.

                “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin, Legolas son of Thranduil, Soriel of Lothlórien, and Leila of Mirkwood. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king.”

                “Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe,” the man replied, removing his helmet. “Not even his own kin. I am Éomer, son of Éomund. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished.” He took a deep breath. “The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets.”

                “We are no spies,” Aragorn explained. “We track a part of Uruk-hai westward across the plains. They have taken two of our friends captive.”

                “The Uruks are destroyed, we slaughtered them in the night,” Éomer said.

                “Two Hobbits,” said Gimli. “Did you see two Hobbits with them?”

                Éomer looked confused.

                “They would be small,” Aragorn added. “Only children to your eyes.”

                “We left none alive,” Éomer said solemnly. “We piled the carcasses and burned them.” He pointed in the direction. Soriel could see the smoke. “I can give you these horses for your journey.” He whistled and four horses came forward. “May they bear you to better fortune than their former masters.” He mounted his horse again and replaced his helmet. “Look for your friends, but do not trust a hope. It has forsaken these lands.”

                It was then that Éomer seemed to notice Soriel.  They locked eyes and he thought her fair. She looked to him to have a sadness about her. He shook his head to clear it of these thoughts.

                “We ride on!” he called to his riders, and he left, a part of him wishing he had stayed and spoken to her.

                Soriel felt a little unsettled by the connection with Éomer. She had no desire for any other man right now. All she wanted was Boromir. She felt the tears come again, but shook them off. She would grieve again only when she was alone.


	12. The Fate of Merry and Pippin

                The Company made their way to the pile of Uruks that Éomer told them about. Fortunately, it did not take long to reach them.

                “That Man stared hard at you,” Leila whispered to Soriel as they rode. “I think he liked what he saw.”

                Soriel rolled her eyes as Leila giggled. Soriel was nowhere near ready to be with another man. She was sure she never could be once she had a child to care for.

                When they reached the pile, the smell was enough to gag Soriel. She also guessed that this was due to her body changing. She knew that women often experienced a heightened reaction to smells while pregnant. Gimli pulled something out of the pile.

                “It’s one of their wee belts,” he said grimly. “We failed them.”

                Legolas and Leila said a prayer for Merry and Pippin, wishing them peace in death. Aragorn kicked an orc helmet and cried out as he fell to his knees. Soriel was suddenly filled with rage.

                “It was for nothing,” she said, her voice hoarse. The eyes of her companions turned on her. “It was for nothing. Boromir gave his life for these two Hobbits and now they are dead!” she was shouting now. “His sacrifice is meaningless now! He died in vain!” On the last word, she too kicked a helmet and wailed with grief. It did not go as far as Aragorn’s, although she remained standing, her chest heaving as she wept.

                She let the tears fall. She was tired of being strong. She watched through water-filled eyes as the drops fell from her face and were quickly soaked up by the dry grass. She felt Aragorn put his arms around her. She was comforted, but she wished desperately that it was the familiar arms of Boromir that embraced her.

                “I hate this,” she sobbed. “I hate that he is gone and will never see his child. I hate that I will be alone.”

                “You are not alone, Soriel,” Aragorn said. “And Boromir died bravely. His death was not –”

                He stopped suddenly. Soriel pulled away and looked at him.

                “Aragorn?”

                He knelt down. “A Hobbit lay here,” he said, indicating with his hand. “And the other…” He sat back, frustrated. He looked again. “They crawled…Their hands were bound…” Aragorn was following the tracks, and the others were close behind him.

                “Their bonds were cut!” he exclaimed, and picked up some rope from the ground. “The tracks lead away from the battle! And into the forest of Fanghorn.”

                “Fanghorn,” Gimli repeated. “What madness drove them in there?”

                “We will rest here, outside the forest,” Aragorn said.

                It would not be dark for a few hours, and they all needed rest if they were to take on Fanghorn Forest. Additionally, they were reluctant to enter it. Even Legolas seemed intimidated. Gimli thought they should forget the whole thing, but he was mostly joking. Leila and Soriel were just ready to find out if Merry and Pippin were still alive.

                As night fell over the country and Aragorn got a small fire going, Soriel began feeling ashamed of herself for her behavior. She wanted to say something, but she had no idea how. She stood to pull Leila aside and ask her, but she was speaking to Legolas already. So Soriel sat down again and decided to push the feelings away.

                It was not long before Leila actually approached Soriel and took a seat beside her. They were already away from the others, as Soriel wanted some separation.

                “How are you doing?” Leila asked.

                “Not well,” Soriel answered. “Clearly. My actions earlier today…that was not becoming.”

                “Soriel,” Leila said. “You are allowed to show your feelings. We want to be here for you.”

                Soriel was so touched she almost started crying again. “Thank you,” she whispered.

                Leila pulled Soriel into an embrace. They sat this way for a long moment. Soriel took a shuddering breath and returned the hug. She knew now what Aragorn said was true. She was not alone. She had the greatest friends in the world to rely on.

                “And listen,” Leila said, pulling away. “I understand completely. I had more than one unbecoming moment while I was with child.”

                Soriel had almost forgotten that Leila had a child. It was the first time Leila had spoken of it since the mountains. Soriel had not considered that perhaps Leila felt some jealousy of her, since she was going to have a baby. She thought better of this, though, as Leila had not grieved for her child even once that Soriel knew of.

                “That is reassuring,” Soriel said. “I hope this is not difficult for you.”

                “You having a baby?” Leila said. “Not at all. I’m happy for you, Soriel.”

                Soriel smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”

                They joined the men again, and Soriel still felt a bit embarrassed.

                “I would like to apologize for earlier,” she said. “My feelings took hold and I was not myself.”

                “It is nothing,” Aragorn assured her. “We all understand how difficult this is for you.”

                She nodded and then gazed at the fire, feeling warmer than she had since Boromir died. Without warning, a hooded figure appeared. All jumped to their feet, prepared to take it on – Legolas readied his arrow, Gimli brandished his axe, and Leila and Aragorn drew swords. But as quickly as the figure had come, he was gone. Along with their horses to their surprise and dismay.

                “Who do you suppose that was?” Leila wondered.

                “It must be Saruman,” Gimli replied. “Only he would do something such as this.”

                “He was clad in grey,” Legolas pointed out.

                “Well, he could not very well go walking about Rohan as himself,” Leila argued.

                “With the power he holds now, he could,” Aragorn said.

                “Well, I hope Éomer was not expecting those horses back,” she returned.

                They all laughed, and then stayed on their guard.


	13. Gandalf the White

                The group went inside Fanghorn in the morning. Aragorn was focused on the footprints of the Hobbits. Legolas had a mildly curious look about him as he walked among the trees. Gimli appeared as though he might jump out of his skin at the slightest sign of trouble.

                “This forest is old,” Legolas commented. “So old that I almost feel young again.”

                “Are you so old?” Leila teased.

                “I should be to you, penneth,” he returned, smirking.

                Leila feigned offense, and they smiled playfully at one another. Once again, Soriel felt a stab of envy. It seemed lately that whenever they spoke to each other they were more than traveling companions. Even more than friends. Suddenly, they came to a stop, as Legolas seemed to hear something.

                “Aragorn, something is out there,” Legolas said seriously, and headed in the direction of the noise. His companions followed close behind.

                Aragorn stood beside Legolas.

                “The white wizard approaches,” Legolas whispered.

                “Do not let him speak,” Aragorn replied. “He may cast a spell on us.”

                They readied themselves and waited for Saruman to come. When he was close, Legolas released an arrow, but the wizard brushed it away like a pest. Gimli hurled his axe, but Saruman broke it in half. Andúril became hot in Aragorn’s hand and he had to drop his sword. The same happened to Leila.

                Still, the wizard’s face was hidden behind a light, which he made brighter once the company was robbed of their weapons.

                “Who are you?” Aragorn demanded. “Show yourself!”

                They light darkened and the wizard stepped forward. It was not Saruman at all. It was Gandalf. Soriel noticed that he was fundamentally different. He wore white instead of gray, and even his hair had changed to match.

                Legolas, Leila, Soriel, and Gimli all knelt to Gandalf.

                “Forgive us,” Legolas said. “We mistook your for Saruman.”

                “I am Saruman,” Gandalf replied. “Or rather Saruman as he should be.”

                Aragorn was still on his feet, gazing in awe at the wizard.

                “You…you fell,” he said.

                “Through fire,” said Gandalf. “And water.”

                Gandalf went on to tell them of his battle with the Balrog and how he defeated it. He said that he had experienced something like death before being returned to this earth, but as Gandalf the White. He was usurping Saruman as the White Wizard and leader of that order.

                “So was it you who made off with our horses then?” Gimli asked.

                Gandalf chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “That was me. They are here.”

                The horses appeared from beyond the trees. They were unharmed, it seemed. Then Gandalf began leading them out of the forest, assuring them that Merry and Pippin were safe. Soriel and Leila were still uneasy, and Gandalf seemed to pick up on it.

                “The Hobbits are safe,” he said. “We will see them again before the end.” He locked eyes with Soriel. “Boromir’s sacrifice will not be in vain.”

                She could only nod.

                “Now, we must ride to Edoras,” he continued. “King Théoden is in Saruman’s grasp.”

                They left Fanghorn and Gandalf whistled a long, flittering whistle. It sounded to Soriel like a bird call. Then a horse of the most magnificence that any of them had seen came trotting up to the wizard. Shadowfax, he was called.

                The company mounted their horses, save Gimli who rode with Legolas, and rode for the city of the House of Eorl.


	14. Edoras

                The company rode swiftly across the open country of Rohan toward Edoras, where King Théoden resided in the Golden Hall.

                Edoras was surprisingly one of the gloomiest places Soriel had ever laid eyes on. No one smiled or even spoke. Not even the children laughed or played. Soriel was inwardly thankful she would not be raising her child here. They quickly arrived at the Hall. However, before they could go in, they were stopped by a man named Hama.

                “I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed,” he said. “By order of Grima Wormtongue.” His sigh as he said the name gave away his disgust of the man.

                The Company agree to this. Aragorn requested that no one else touch Andúril, though, and placed it outside himself. Gimli hesitated only a moment before giving up his axe. Leila and Legolas willingly handed over their things. Then they turned to Gandalf.

                “Your staff,” Hama said.

                “Oh,” Gandalf protested. “You would not part an old man from his walking stick.”

                Hama seemed conflicted for a moment, but his softer side won, and he allowed Gandalf to pass with the staff. They entered the Hall.

                Soriel was shocked by King Théoden’s state. He looked aged far beyond his years. His back was hunched over, and it was unlikely that he could see out of his clouded eyes.

                “He looks awful,” Leila whispered to Soriel, who could only nod in agreement.

                Gandalf started to approach the king. As he did so, the Company was being carefully watched by a group of rough-looking men, who could have been soldiers, but looked fouler. Soriel felt worry begin to stir in her chest.

                “The courtesy of your Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King,” Gandalf said.

                “Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?” Théoden returned weakly.

                “A just question, my liege,” said a greasy haired man who had been at Théoden’s side. 

                “Ugh,” Leila accidentally said aloud, and Soriel almost laughed. The man was rather unpleasant to behold. 

                “Late is the hour in which this conjuror chooses to appear,” the greasy man continued. “Ill news is an ill guest.”

                 “Be silent,” Gandalf snapped, pointing his staff in the man’s face. “Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth.”

                “His staff,” the man said, and Soriel understood that this must be Grima Wormtongue. “I told you to take the wizard’s staff!”

                At Wormtongue’s command, his soldiers went for Gandalf. Aragorn and the others sprang into action to protect him. The wizard got closer to the king, freeing his mind from the control of Saruman. When all Wormtongue’s soldiers were out of the way, the watched Gandalf. Gimli held Grima.

                While Gandalf worked on the king, a striking young lady clad in white entered the hall. She evidently thought that Gandalf was hurting Théoden, for she started toward him. Aragorn grabbed her and told her to wait. Wide eyed and worried, she obeyed.

                At last, Théoden was saved. He returned to himself physically and mentally. Aragorn released the woman and she ran to the king, catching him in her arms. Théoden now looked his age, but also a little confused. Then he laid eyes on the woman.   

                “I know your face,” he said. “Éowyn.”

                They beamed at one another and she released a small laugh of joy before embracing him. When they let go of one another, the king looked around again.

                “Fingers would remember their old strength better,” Gandalf said. “If they grasped their sword.”

                Hama approached along with another man. The other man got on bended knee and offered Théoden his sword. He took it and then instructed the man to stand. To everyone’s surprise, it was Éomer, the marshal of the Rohirrim they had met when they first arrived in Rohan. He had returned to Edoras to report meeting Aragorn and the Company, but was placed under arrest by Wormtongue. After he was restored with honor, he moved to stand with Éowyn, and on his way, he once again locked eyes with Soriel. This time, he offered her a charming smile. She quickly looked away.

                The king meanwhile banished Grima from Rohan. Soriel and Leila noticed the look of immense relief on Éowyn’s face as Grima rode away and out of Edoras. Théoden rose to his full height.

                “Where is Théodred?” he suddenly asked as if he only just remembered he had a son at all. “Where is my son?” The second question had the urgent concern in it. Éowyn and Éomer exchanged solemn glances.     

                It was revealed that the prince was killed by orcs. Théoden wept and retired to his son’s chambers. He was not seen for the rest of the day. Soriel’s heart went out to him. If her baby died, she would feel exactly the same way.

                A funeral was held for the prince the following morning. Théodred was laid to rest among his forefathers. Théoden once again did not leave his son’s side, even long after the ceremony was over.

                After the funeral, Soriel returned to her chambers in Meduseld. On her way, she heard a small sob coming from a room down the hall. She followed it. Through a crack in the door, she saw Éomer, openly grieving for his cousin. It was strange for Soriel to see, as the man she had met out in the country had been so hard and intimidating. A sympathetic urge possessed her, and she knocked lightly on the door. He looked up and waved her inside.

                With a light push of the door she entered the room. It felt odd to be in a man’s bedroom, but this was not something shameful. She looked upon this Lord of Rohan with eyes of understanding and sorrow. Without invitation she sat down next to him, but he did not send her away. With yet another act of uncharacteristic bravery, she took his hand.

                “I am familiar with your pain,” she said. “I know how difficult it is to lose one you love. Would you like to talk?”

                Éomer immediately opened up. “Théodred and I were more like brothers than cousins. We were raised together, along with Éowyn of course. It just feels like a gaping wound right in my heart.”

                “I understand,” she said. “Grief often feels like a newly opened window, and a cold blast of wind catches you off guard. And yet, you cannot seem to close it again.”

                “I felt the same with my mother and father died,” he agreed. “The window closed, but once in a while it springs open again and surprises you.”

                She looked at him. “You have suffered a great deal. When did you lose your parents?”

                “Long ago, when I was only a child,” he told her. “Éowyn hardly remembers them.”

                “I’m so sorry,” she said.

                He gave her hand a squeeze. “What about you?”

                She looked down at her lap. “My lover. That window is still very much open.”

                “I’m sorry too,” he said. “I find grief is best defeated with company.”

                “I do too,” she said, and looked back up at him. “Are you feeling better now?”

                He nodded. “Yes, thank you. And you?”

                “I am,” she said “I am glad I spoke to you. The rest of my company has not been able to relate to me this way.”

                “I am glad you came to me as well,” he replied. There was a beat before he continued. “Will you remain in Edoras long?”

                “That remains to be seen,” she said.

                “Well, I hope you will,” he said.

                She released his hand. “We shall see.” She got to her feet, and he followed suit.

                “I do not wish to offend,” he said, trying to recover. “I know you love another.”

                “There is no offense,” she assured him. “But I must go to my friends now. We will be making plans soon and I was hoping from here I could ride to Minas Tirith.”

                “Minas Tirith?” he questioned.

                “Well, I apologize for becoming so personal so quickly, but I am with child,” she said. “The father was from Minas Tirith and I must get to his family.”

                “I wish you the best of luck,” he said, and he seemed honest.

                “Thank you, my lord,” she returned with a nod.

                “Please, you may call me Éomer,” he insisted.

                “Well then, thank you, Éomer,” she repeated.

                “No, thank you, Soriel,” he said. “For stopping and talking with me.”

                They smiled at one another before at last, she departed.


	15. Flight and Sorrow

                Soriel found that she would not be able to go to Minas Tirith just yet. There was no one who could escort her, since Rohan was preparing to take on Saruman. Two children had arrived from a small village to warn of the orcs and Uruks taking the Westfold and burning homes and slaughtering people. The people of Rohan, it seemed, would be under attack.

                While they prepared, Éomer and Soriel began spending more time together. He showed her around Edoras, and she was fascinated to hear his stories from his childhood and all he knew of the land. Soriel was not at all familiar with the history of this country, but she found she liked it here. With the shadow of Saruman away from the king, the people were happy again, and they were friendly. Éomer and Soriel developed a friendship, and she enjoyed it very much. Talking to him was so easy. They had much in common, as they both valued family and love above most things.  

                They stayed in Edoras for about a month before Théoden decided the people would be safer at the haven of Helm’s Deep. Aragorn was against this idea, but allowed Théoden to give the command. He also assured Soriel that the journey was not long, just a few days.

                The people began their march. Soriel rode alongside Éomer. She noticed that Legolas and Leila rode side by side as well, and they laughed together. The two had a habit of speaking in Elvish in front of Gimli just to frustrate him. 

                “Those two,” Éomer said. “They are very close.”

                Soriel nodded. “They are. It is nice to see joy like that in these times.”

                She looked around at the people of Rohan, paying particular attention to the young mothers with their children. She observed the loving way their mothers looked at them, and how much they wanted to protect them from the horrors of the world. Éomer noticed Soriel looking.

                “Taking notes?” he joked.

                “Partly,” she answered. “It is frightening to think of how to bring up a child.”

                “I would not worry too much,” he told her. “If your child’s father was Boromir, then I am sure the Steward will find help for you.”

                “If I ever get to Minas Tirith,” she said with a sigh. “It seems I cannot ever break away from this quest.”

                “Once Helm’s Deep is defended, I’ll escort you,” he offered. “We should have time after that.”

                “That is generous of you,” she said.

                Legolas and Leila went ahead to see if there was any danger. Aragorn followed for the report. He suddenly came running frantically back.

                “Orcs!” he shouted. “We’re under attack!”

                The people of Rohan were now scrambling to safety. Éomer rushed forward with the other warriors to lead the charge. Éowyn started to gather the people in lines to keep them from harm. Soriel watched her friends go into battle, feeling helpless and worried. She tugged on the reins to turn her horse around when she saw an arrow heading directly toward her. Then everything went black.

                Éomer saw Soriel fall from her horse. He rushed to wear she lay, but was delayed by a mounted orc. The orc swung his cub and Éomer dodged the blow by ducking, but his horse caught the blast of his and he was thrown to the ground. He skidded across the grass, but stood up quickly so he would not be trampled by the action around him. The orc that had taken his horse was now charging him again. Éomer took a strong stance and ran the Warg through the chest with his sword. The orc was now on the ground as well. It got to its feet and ran at Éomer again, waving its club, but Éomer sidestepped and cleanly sliced the orc’s head off its shoulders. He started in Soriel’s direction again, but saw yet another enemy coming from his side. He reacted quickly and as it ran toward him, he stabbed it through the stomach. He then tugged his sword up through the creature’s head.

                He did not reach Soriel until the fighting was over. When the orcs were dead, as well as many of his own men, he ran to her side. She was unconscious, and an arrow was lodged in her stomach. She was still breathing, but he realized from the position of the arrow that there was no hope for her child.

                He saw her horse not far off, still standing but spooked. He calmed it quickly and carefully put Soriel back in the saddle. He mounted behind her and took the reins. He rode to wear Legolas stood with King Théoden at the edge of the cliff. Leila was there too.

                “Soriel!” she cried at the sight of her friend.

                “Where is Aragorn?” Éomer asked. “We are in need of his healing powers.”

                “He fell over the cliffs,” Legolas said. “The Rohan healers will have to suffice.” He opened his clenched fist at gazed at the jewel as if it would return the son of Arathorn to them. He put it away and Leila took his hand comfortingly.

                “Will she survive?” Leila asked, indicating Soriel.

                “I do not know,” Éomer said. “She is still breathing, but slowly and raggedly. Without Aragorn, not only is Soriel at risk but the rest of our injured.” He looked at the king. “Uncle…we need him.”

                “We will have to do without,” Théoden said briskly. “He is just one man after all.”

                He mounted his horse swiftly and got back in the lead and rode away. Éomer followed, eager to get to Helm’s Deep and get Soriel some help.


	16. Helm's Deep

                Soriel found herself in a world of white. She seemed to be floating.

                “Am I dead?” she wondered.

                She looked around, and saw a figure a few feet ahead of her. It was not just any figure. She would recognize that frame and profile from anywhere. It was Boromir.

                “Boromir!” she called to him.

                He turned to look at her and smiled, his eyes shining with joy.

                “Soriel!” he returned and stretched his arms out to her.

                Her eyes sparkled with tears as she hurtled toward him, ready to leap into his embrace and cry into his chest. She wanted to kiss him again and smell him and hold him forever. When she reached him, however, a different man stood there. A man with long blonde hair, intense brown eyes, and a wide smile. It was Éomer now.   

                Soriel stopped dead in her tracks, confused. Why was it Éomer? Where had Boromir gone? Would he return? She was so upset, she whimpered uncomfortably. She wanted Boromir!  
                To her great delight, he appeared again. Beaming, she jumped into his arms and kissed him. She wept as his familiar lips made their way down her neck and back up her jawline. When they reached her mouth again, they were different. She opened her eyes to see Éomer again. She snatched her arms from around his neck and backed away, wondering where Boromir was and how he had transformed.

                She let out a sob. Through her tears, she watched the figure switch back to Boromir. Moments later, it was Éomer. Boromir. Éomer. Boromir. Éomer. Faster and faster the transitions came. She let out a terrified scream, fell to her knees, and sobbed into her hands. She rocked back and forth, unable to look at the strange figure before her.

                “Soriel!” came a voice from the distance. It was barely a whisper.

                “Soriel!” it was louder now. She stood up and listened carefully for it.

                “Soriel!” louder again now.

                Soriel took off after the one calling her, though she had no idea who it was. All she knew was she wanted to escape the nightmare of the changing man.

                “Soriel!”

                She ran faster. Further away from the transforming figure which haunted her.

                “Soriel!”

                She pushed herself again to go ever faster. Something about the voice made her believe that it was leading her to safety. She would follow the voice.

                “Soriel!”

                To safety!

                “Soriel!”

                To safety!  

                It was right on top of her now. She felt warmth and light surround her and she reached out toward it. She was close, she could feel it.

                “Soriel?”

                She opened her eyes to the faces of Éomer, Legolas, Leila, and Gimli, all staring at her and looking concerned. They looked rather blurry at first, and Soriel realized she was crying. She blinked and the tears leaked out of her eyes. She reached for Leila, who took her hand, but immediately cried out. It was painful to move.

                “You should be still,” Éomer said. “The healer said you could open your wounds.”

                “What wounds?” Soriel asked.

                They all looked grimly at one another.

                “What’s happened?” Soriel asked, forcefully this time.

                Leila was crying.

                “I’m so sorry, Soriel,” she began, and then sniffled. “You were struck by an arrow when the orcs attacked and…well, the baby is lost.”

                Soriel felt like Leila had just punched her in the gut.

                “No,” she said. “It cannot be…I cannot lose Boromir’s child!”

                “I’m sorry,” Leila said again. “I’m so sorry.”

                Soriel had so much going through her. She was in pain from the wound but now grief had gripped her round her chest and squeezed. She could not draw breath. Her mind was hazy with thoughts of her lost love, and of the horrifying dream she had. Her heart raced with fear and sadness. It was too much. She just kept saying “no.” She could do nothing but deny that any of this had happened. She had lost Boromir, and now his child. It just could not be.

                “Soriel –” Éomer began but she stopped him.

                “Leave me!” she cried.

                To her relief, her friends obeyed. She heard the door shut, and wailed. She wept and wept for her poor child. There was nothing left of Boromir. She had failed him.

                Outside, the room, her companions looked very grim. Leila was still crying.

                “That was awful,” Leila said. “Oh, Legolas!” She threw herself into his arms and he accepted her, rubbing her back soothingly.

                “She was only just beginning to recover from the loss of Boromir,” Éomer said. “This will take a hard toll on her. When we would walk about Edoras, she used to tell me that her grief for Boromir was eased by the thought of the baby. She will feel like she failed him.”

                “This might be a good thing yet,” said Gimli. “Perhaps now she can truly move on from Boromir.”

                Legolas shook his head. “No, Gimli. From what Éomer has said it seems like Soriel will feel like that is forgetting Boromir. That is the last thing she wants.”

                Leila finally released him and faced her companions. “What Soriel does or feels is not something we can predict just now. All we can do is support her. In her grief and her recovery.”

                Éomer nodded in agreement. After a brief moment of silence, they dispersed to where they were needed most to prepare for the coming battle.

                Over the next few days, Soriel was seeing no one, so Éomer spent time with his sister. Éowyn was grieving for the loss of Aragorn, as she had some feelings for him. Soriel had sadly informed Éomer that Éowyn had not a chance with Aragorn, as he was deeply in love with an Elf maiden, Arwen Undómiel. He would not abandon her, but Éomer decided now was not the time to tell Éowyn this. 

                When he was not with his sister, he was with his uncle, discussing the defense of Helm’s Deep. One day during one such session, the door of the keep burst open and in walked Aragorn, son of Arathorn, injured and exhausted, but alive. All rejoiced at his return, but he had terrible news. At least ten thousand orcs were headed to Helm’s Deep. They would arrive by nightfall.


	17. The Battle

                Soriel moved from her room in the keep to the caves with the other women and children. Éomer came to help her move. She had seen little of him in these last few days and the last time they had spoken she had heard the news of her child. She seemed to have lost a bit of her light since the news. Soriel felt at first as if she had been torn apart. Now, numbness took her. She just wanted her wound to heal.

                Éomer came into the room and she looked gloomily up at him. He said nothing and crouched to allow her to put her arms around his neck. Shakily, she got to her feet. Soriel hated that her legs wobbled like a fawn, for she fell into Éomer’s chest. He decided to forgo getting her to walk and scooped her up bridal style.

                “Is this alright?” he asked once he secured her.

                “I suppose,” she returned, and settled in.

                He started walking toward the caves. Soriel had heard news of the number of orcs marching toward Helm’s Deep, and found herself worrying for the fate of her friends. She had already lost Boromir. What would become of her if she lost Leila? Or Legolas? Or even Gimli and Éomer? She shuddered at the thought.

                “Is something wrong?” he asked.

                “I…I know you are all going to fight and I just…I cannot lose everything again,” she admitted in almost a whisper.

                “Soriel…” he trailed off. He truly did not know how to comfort her. The battle did not appear to be one they could win.

                When they reached the caves, Éomer placed Soriel close to Éowyn, who looked frustrated. Soriel tried to find a comfortable position but gave it up. Éomer knelt down beside her.

                “Soriel,” he said. “I will come back to you. Even if I have not my arms or my head, I will return.”

                She chuckled, and then clutched her abdomen in pain. “I believe you,” she said.

                “I will send Leila and the others to you before we fight,” he said, taking her hand. “Now, I must away to prepare.”

                She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she released it. “I understand.”

                He kissed her on the cheek. Then he hugged his sister and left. Éowyn looked at Soriel.

                “My brother,” she said. “He cares for you.”

                “I care for him too,” Soriel said.

                “In the same way?” Éowyn asked.

                “We are friends, Lady Éowyn,” Soriel said. “That is all.”

                “Just be careful,” Éowyn replied. “It’s his heart you handle.”

                Soriel opened her mouth to retort, but distractions appeared in the forms of Leila, Legolas, and Gimli. They had come to see Soriel as Éomer had promised.

                “How are you feeling?” Leila asked. “Any better?”

                “I am still quite sore,” Soriel said. “And my legs are weak from lack of use. But I do not think there is much more cause for concern.”

                “That is good news,” Gimli said.

                “Where is Aragorn?” Soriel wondered.

                “Preparing,” Legolas told her. “He said to tell you he hopes you are well and looks forward to seeing you after the battle. Perhaps he can help you heal faster.”

                “Soriel,” Leila said. “I know you fear for your friends, so I wanted to offer to stay with you through the battle. That way you would not be so alone.”

                “No, Leila,” Soriel said, shaking her head. “That is a kind offer. But the people of Rohan need every fighter they can use. You must be with them.”

                Leila nodded. “Well, we wanted to see you before it began, anyway.”

                “I am glad, for I need to wish you well,” Soriel said. “I will be praying for you all.”

                “We shall need every prayer you can utter,” Legolas replied.

                They did not stay long, as they were called back into the keep by the soldiers. There was still a great deal to do before the orcs were to arrive. Soriel watched them go and her heart ached for them. She prayed that this was not the last time she would look upon their faces.

                When every able bodied young man had been called out to the wall, the women and children were left in the caves. The nervousness was palpable. Many women were wringing their hands or clutching their clothes. Some sounds of the battle could be heard, but that was small comfort. Soriel watched and could hardly stand it.

                There was a woman with her small daughter sitting nearby. The daughter had been looking at Soriel for most of the night, taking in the newcomer who was so unlike the people she knew.

                “Girl,” Soriel said. “Have you even seen an Elf before?”

                The girl shook her head. Soriel smiled.

                “Well you have now.”

                The girl’s eyes went wide. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve.

                “Mama, did you hear? That lady is an Elf!”

                “Yes, darling, I heard,” the mother said.

                The girl scooted closer.

                “Are Elves ever afraid?”

                “Yes, we are often afraid,” Soriel answered. “I am afraid even now as I speak to you. I have people I love fighting in the battle.”

                “Me too,” the girl said. “My father.”

                “There are many fathers out there fighting,” Soriel said. “And brothers and uncles.” She glanced at Éowyn, who nodded.

                “They are the ones who are really afraid,” the girl said.

                “Yes,” Soriel agreed. “But we can help them. Do you know how?”

                The girl shook her head.

                “We girls must be strong,” Soriel explained. “We must pray for them and support them. Remind them of their courage and what they fight for.”

                “I think I can do that,” the girl said. “But how?”

                “Well, whenever I feel afraid,” Soriel said. “I sing an old song my mother used to sing to me. That way no one knows I’m afraid.”

                “Will you teach it to me?” the girl asked.

                “Of course!” Soriel said. “Let’s see, I’ll have to translate the words into Common Tongue.”

                After translating to the best of her ability, Soriel taught the tune and the words to the girl. As she sang more children approached, and wanted to learn the song too. It appeared the distraction was much needed, as even the mothers and other women approached to listen. Soon, almost every person had their eyes on Soriel. Yet, she was not deterred.

                “Now, children, you know what really helps me stay my fear while I sing?” she addressed them. “Striking a careless pose. A brave pose. Can you do that?”

                They shouted with glee and jumped to their feet, each taking a stance. She gazed out at them and smiled.

                “I must say you are a brave group!” she praised. “I would not know your fear if I came across you! Shall we start from the beginning?”

                They agreed enthusiastically and started the song from the top, singing loudly and with fierce gazes. The determination in their eyes was a sight to behold. Their mothers and Soriel kept them on beat by clapping their hands. Honestly, it was a welcome distraction for Soriel as well. She had not felt so happy in days. Her heart was full again.

                Just as the children started singing another round, the loudest explosion Soriel had ever heard shook Helm’s Deep to the core. The children shrieked with fright and several fell into Soriel’s lap. The others grabbed fistfuls of their mothers’ skirts. When it settled again, they all turned eyes on Soriel.

                “Soriel, what was that?” asked the first little girl she had spoken to, whose name was Gilda.

                “I do not know,” Soriel told her.

                “They cannot have breached the keep, could they?” wondered another woman.

                Soriel looked at Éowyn. “Has it ever been breached before?”

                “No,” Éowyn said. “But do not forget that Grima knew where the weakness in the wall was. Perhaps Saruman used this to his advantage.”

                Worry spread throughout the group, growing louder and louder, and some were even beyond panic now. Soriel held up her hands.

                “Please, everyone!” she cried to get their attention, and they quieted down. “Remember, you are the strong and noble people of Rohan! You cannot let a shake of the wall shake your spirit. Keep your courage.”

                A hush fell over them and they all seemed to relax, even though they still feared for their loved ones. It seemed they took comfort in Soriel’s words.

                More hours passed, and light started to grow in the tunnel. Dawn was upon them. Hopefully, this also meant the end of the battle, but they could not yet know.


	18. After the Battle

                The battle was indeed over. Gandalf had retrieved another army to fight for Rohan, and the Uruks were overrun. Helm’s Deep was defended and the people of Rohan were safe. Éomer came into the caves with Théoden. They flew to Éowyn, who embraced them both. When Éomer finished with his sister, he came to Soriel.

                “You’re standing!” he cried in surprise.

                “So are you!” she returned with a grin.

                He pulled her gently into a hug. She gave him a small squeeze, and then she felt a soft tug on her skirt. It was Gilda.

                “Thank you, Soriel,” she said.

                “Oh, Gilda, dear,” Soriel replied, and knelt down to her level. “It was you who brought me comfort today.”

                The other children came up and followed suit, along with many of the women, to Éomer’s shock and pleasure. He smirked as he watched them hug Soriel and take her hand and thank her.

                “What on earth have you done to so endear yourself to my people?” he asked.

                “I just taught them a song to last the night,” she told him. “I did not think I had such an effect.”

                Éomer felt his heart swell with pride at this. Soriel had managed to move beyond her grief and comfort the children of Rohan in their great need. It was such a beautiful sentiment and he found he admired her more now than ever before.

                “I’m glad you are alive,” she said, tearing him from his thoughts.

                Suddenly, the arms of Leila nearly knocked Soriel from her feet. She laughed in surprise.

                “Can you believe it?!” Leila exclaimed. “We’re alive!”

                Soriel giggled. “Hardly!”  

                “Do not forget, our friend is injured,” Legolas reminded Leila.

                She backed away from Soriel quickly.

                “Oh, yes, sorry,” she said. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

                “Not at all,” Soriel assured her. “I’m so happy you are all here now.”

                They all looked out on the people reuniting with their loved ones. There was joy, but there was also pain. It was difficult to see the hearts break in those whose family had not survived the battle. Soriel felt like weeping with them, but did not.

                In the coming days, the people were preparing to leave Helm’s Deep. Aragorn did some work on Soriel and got her up and walking again. The soreness in her torso was lessened, so she could move easier, and there was now no worry of the wound re-opening. That was a relief, as Soriel was eager to help with the return to Edoras. She could no longer dwell on grief, so she put all in her efforts into helping the people of Rohan. At night, when she was alone, she allowed herself to cry, but she wanted to stay positive now that she had bonded with these fine folk.

                One day, Soriel was helping a few people pack up their belongings when Éomer found her. He was still so impressed by her. He knew she must be hurting from her loss, but the way she was turning her grief into action was something he was familiar with.

                “Soriel, may I speak to you?” he asked.

                “Of course,” she returned and followed him to a private area where people had already vacated. “What is it, Éomer?”

                “I wanted to thank you for all of your help as of late,” he said. “The people are very touched. They are coming to love you, I think.” He looked deep into her eyes, and held her gaze for several moments. “You, my lady, are…impressive.”

                “Well, I –” she began but he cut her off with a kiss.

                It did not last long before she gently pushed him away. The air became thick between them.

                “I am sorry,” she said, not looking at him. “I cannot do this now.”

                He cleared his throat. “Of course. I understand.” He started to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

                “I admire you, Éomer,” she said. “I even like you. But I just…I just lost my son.”

                He sighed, faced her, and pulled her close. She did not weep, but wrapped her arms round his waist and buried her face in his chest. She felt his cheek rest atop her head. They held each other for several moments. For the first time, Soriel did not find herself wishing for Boromir’s arms. She just appreciated Éomer for the man he was and how he held her. She saw this as a good sign that things between them could remain friendly until she was ready.

                Later, Soriel found Leila. She needed to talk to her best friend about Éomer’s actions. Leila always had sage advice for her on these matters, and Soriel’s emotions were running high. She knew that she very much liked Éomer but those feelings came with a world of guilt. She found Leila shining her swords.

                “Still cleaning them?” Soriel asked in greeting.

                “It will be days yet before they are completely clean again,” Leila said. “And how are you?”

                “Conflicted,” Soriel told her. “I seek your friendly wisdom.”

                Leila smirked playfully. “Take a seat near me, pupil, and tell me of your woes.”

                Soriel chuckled.

                “Well, I suppose I should start by saying that Éomer kissed me earlier,” she told her.

                Leila did not even flinch. “How did you like it?”

                “I put a stop to it,” Soriel said.

                “Was it so awful?” Leila asked, smiling.

                “No!” Soriel insisted. “It was very nice. I like him a lot, but that has come with a cloud over it. A cloud of guilt.”

                “Guilt for Boromir?” Leila pressed.

                Soriel nodded. “I feel it is a dishonor to him, and our child.”

                “Soriel, if I had as many feelings as you, I would be the same as the wall out there,” Leila said.

                Soriel shot her a questioning look.

                “In pieces,” Leila explained. “Blown up.”

                Soriel agreed. “I feel as if I am nearly there.”

                “You know what will help?”

                Soriel shook her head.

                Leila put a hand on her shoulder. “Get out of your head for one moment, and start looking in your heart. There is no rush to make any decision, so just take time, and listen to it. Allow what is going to happen, just happen.”

                Soriel smiled.


	19. Retrieving Merry and Pippin

                When all was in order, the people of Rohan set out back across the plains toward their villages and toward Edoras. With the fear lifted, this journey was actually fun. Leila, Soriel, and Éowyn took up the rear of the group and joked together as such friends do. Eventually, the Company, along with Éomer and Théoden, broke away from the group and headed to Isengard, where they would retrieve Merry and Pippin. Éowyn led the people back to the capitol.

                They came upon Isengard to discover it broken and flooded. It was overrun by Ents, and it appeared Saruman was trapped in his tower. Soriel soon heard the familiar laughter of Merry and Pippin. Merry got to his feet and stretched his arms wide.

                “Welcome, lords and ladies!” he said with a grin. “To Isengard!”

                Leila’s horse had not yet come to a full stop before she leapt from it and took the Hobbits into her arms. They laughed with her embrace.

                “You young rascals!” Gimli cried. He sputtered on about their drinking and smoking.

                “We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts,” Pippin returned. “The salted pork is particularly good.”

                “Salted pork,” Gimli repeated, astonished.

                “We’re under orders from Treebeard,” Merry said. “Who has taken over management of Isengard.”

                 “You two are the greatest,” Leila said with a grin.

                Merry took a seat with Éomer and Pippin rode with Aragorn, and they made their way into the heart of Isengard, where the Ent was waiting.

                “Mmm, young Master Gandalf,” said Treebeard. “I’mmm glad you’ve come. Wood and water, stock and stone like a master. But there’s a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower.”

                They all looked at Orthanc, wondering where the wizard was.

                “Show yourself,” Aragorn whispered.

                “Be careful,” Gandalf warned. “Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous.”

                “Well, let’s just have his head and be done with it,” Gimli suggested.

                “No,” Gandalf said. “We need him alive. We need him to talk.”

                There was only a beat before a voice rang out.

                “You have fought many wars, and slain many men, Théoden King,” said Saruman. “And made peace afterwards. May we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace?”

                “We shall have peace,” Théoden replied. “We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold! And the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!”

                “Gibbets and crows!” returned Saruman. “Dotard! What do you want Gandalf Grayheme? Let me guess, the key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys of _Barad_ - _dûr_ itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!”

                “Your treachery has already cost many lives,” Gandalf said simply. “Thousands more are now at risk. But you can save them, Saruman! You are deep in the enemy’s counsel.”

                “So you have come here for information?” Saruman asked. “I have some for you.”

                He pulled out a black orb that Soriel almost mistook for a weapon, and she tensed up in her saddle. But Saruman continued.

                “Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth,” he said. “Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now, he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon.”

                At this point, Gandalf moved forward. He too seemed unnerved by the presence of the black orb, although he apparently knew what it was.

                “You are all going to die,” Saruman said finally. “But you know this, don’t you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor! This exile crept from the shadows will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death.”

                Gandalf did not respond to this, but he offered Saruman the chance to surrender and live. Saruman flared up at this, and sent down a ball of flame at Gandalf, who became engulfed in it. The flames leapt high above the water they stood in. Éomer stuck out his hand toward Soriel, who rode beside him, and shielded her eyes. A gesture that was not needed, but appreciated anyway. Just as quickly, the flames dissipated, and Gandalf was unscathed.

                “Saruman,” he said. “Your staff is broken.”

                He spoke the words and it happened. The rod in Saruman’s hand splintered and shattered. Saruman seemed just as surprised as everyone else. Grima slid up behind him.

                “Grima,” Théoden addressed him. “You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down.”

                “No!” cried Soriel and Leila in unison. Théoden looked sharply at them, but they did not care. Éowyn, in her time with the women, had confessed to them how Grima had frightened her. It was the only thing that truly scared Éowyn at all.

                “A man of Rohan?” Saruman mocked, breaking the tension caused by the Elves. “What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink and reek? And the brats roll on the floor with the dogs? Victory at Helm’s Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires.”

                “Grima,” Théoden said again. “Come down. Be free of him.”

                “My lord, no!” Leila protested once more.

                “Think of your niece!” Soriel added.

                Théoden had no time to question them, but Éomer shot a worried look at Soriel.

                “Free?” Saruman said. “He will never be free!”

                Grima responded but Saruman struck him.

                “Saruman!” Gandalf said. “You are deep in the enemy’s counsel. Tell us what you know.”

                “You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided!” he shot back. “I will not be held prisoner here!”

                Before he could say anything else, Grima was stabbing him in the back. Legolas shot Grima to stop him, but it was too late. Saruman fell from the top of Orthanc and landed with a sickening thud on a wheel. Soriel winced and hid her face behind her hands. The orb rolled out of Saruman’s sleeve, where Pippin retrieved it. Gandalf took it from him before he could hold it for too long. Soriel wondered what it was, but could not ask. Gandalf urged them out of Isengard at last and back to Edoras.

                As they rode, Éomer slowed to ride with Soriel and Leila.

                “What did you mean just then?” he asked. “About Grima and Éowyn.”

                Leila spoke first. “That man terrified your sister. You must have noticed.”

                “I thought he annoyed her, yes, and that his attention was unwanted,” Éomer said. “But I did not know he truly scared her.”

                “She told us she did not want you to worry, when other things were more important,” Soriel elaborated. “She also had faith that you would be there to protect her if he ever got out of line.”

                “I should have been more careful,” he said. “I should have watched more closely. Perhaps I could have had him gone before he ever poisoned my uncle’s mind.”

                “Do not trouble yourself with what has passed,” Soriel told him, placing a hand on his arm. “Be there for her now.”

                He nodded, and they rode the rest of the way back to Edoras.


	20. Return to Edoras

                The return to Meduseld was a joyful one. Théoden hosted a large feast and party, where they honored those lost at Helm’s Deep, but also celebrated their victory. Soriel grabbed an ale and went to speak to Leila at the start of it.

                “So,” Leila began. “What has you heart told you?”

                “Nothing yet,” Soriel replied. “I wish it would speak louder.”

                “It has a lot going on,” Leila said assuredly. “How are you feeling about your child now? Do you still grieve for him?”

                “Yes,” Soriel answered. “But it is becoming easier to bear.”

                “That is good,” Leila said. “You cannot dwell too long on such things.”

                “You hardly dwelled at all,” Soriel reminded her.

                Leila looked down at her cup thoughtfully. It was obvious that there was something on the tip of her tongue, but she was struggling to voice it.

                “Leila?” Soriel questioned.

                “I know you have all wondered about my child and why I cared so little for it,” Leila said. “It…the child was forced on me. I never wanted it or its sire, who I do not even know.”

                Soriel’s eyes went wide and at last she understood. Leila had been raped.

                “I did not expect to survive the mountain,” she continued. “In fact, I meant not to.”

                “Leila…” Soriel trailed off, unsure what to say. “Who?”

                Leila shook her head. “A few men of Gondor as I passed through Ithilien.”

                “I’m sorry,” Soriel said, and it suddenly dawned on her why Leila had been so scared of Boromir. She was even still wary of Aragorn. “That’s horrible.”

                “Please, keep this between us,” Leila said. “I tell you now only because I know you understand.”

                “Of course,” Soriel agreed.

                They spoke no more of it. Leila took a drink and then went to see Merry and Pippin, who were dancing on a table and singing a drinking song of the Shire. Soriel moved over to Éomer, who was pouring drinks for Legolas and Gimli’s drinking game. Gimli was well on his way to passing out, to everyone’s amusement.

                “Hello,” Éomer greeted her with a smile. “Would you care to join?”

                “No, thank you,” Soriel returned. “This is no game for ladies.”

                “Aye, that is true,” he agreed. “It is also apparently no game for Dwarves.”

                Soriel laughed, as Gimli had let out a long and loud belch.

                “Are you alright?” Éomer suddenly asked. “You seem shaken.”

                She was still reeling a little from Leila’s story, but she agreed to keep the secret, so she shook her head.

                “Not at all,” she said. “I am just weary from recent events.”

                “I understand,” he said. “We should all get some rest.”

                “And yet I do not see that for this night,” she joked.

                “Oh, darling, nothing puts a man to sleep like ale,” he replied.

                “Is that so?” she asked. “I shall bear that in mind for the future.”

                He put his arm around her shoulders, and they watched the game go on. Gimli got incredibly out of hand and eventually just passed out. Legolas had barely a tingle in his fingers before he won.

                In the later hours, people started to dwindle out of the hall and to their beds. Éomer escorted Soriel to the room she and Leila were sharing. He seemed unsure what to do at first.

                “Good night,” he said.

                “Ollo vae,” she replied.

                He squinted at her, confused.

                “It is ‘dream well’ in Elvish,” she explained. “Sweet dreams to you, if dreams there be.”

                “You are most kind,” he replied.

                They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and he leaned forward. She prepared for another romantic kiss, but instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes to the contact. He lingered only a moment before pulling a way. After an exchange of smiles, they parted. Sleep came to Soriel quickly.

                She stood knee deep in salty water. She heard the distant crash of waves onto a pure white shore. The smell of sea salt was overwhelming, filling her very pores. She closed her eyes to the cool of the water as it lapped at her legs and the feel of the warm ocean breeze as it whipped her hair around her face. She allowed the wind to wrap itself around her, only to be swept away in an instant. It was the most peaceful she had ever felt in her long Elven life.

                “Hello there,” said a voice from behind her.

                “Boromir!” she cried and opened her eyes to see him.

                She wrapped her arms around him and he returned the hold.

                “So, you have acquired feelings for this man of Rohan?” he asked. He did not sound angry, but she felt guilty all the same.

                “Well…” she trailed off and stepped away from him. “Yes. I understand if you are angry with me. I know what a betrayal this is to your memory. I would not say I am completely in love with this man, but I am beginning to feel more than friendship. I am so sorry, Boromir.”

                “No apologies, love,” he said. “I am happy for you.”

                He smiled. Then Soriel noticed how god-like he looked. Clad in white, his eyes bright, and his smile wide. He had a soft glow about him. His hair did not move with the wind and his clothes were not water-stained.

                “It is natural to fall in love again Soriel,” he continued. “You carry so much sadness. Suffer no more on my account. Make yourself happy.”

                “But I am not yet sure of my feelings,” she argued.

                “You need not be,” he said. “But do not turn him away for the sake of a dead man.”

                “Are you certain about this?” she asked.

                He nodded. “Loving another does not mean you care any less for me or cheapen what we shared. Allow another to share that with you.”

                They both heard a scream that sounded five hundred leagues away. They knew it to be the voice of Pippin.

                “It seems you are needed elsewhere,” he said. “Farewell, Soriel. And I mean it, for I do not believe we will meet again.”

                “Farewell,” she whispered gloomily as he kissed her sweetly on the top of her head.

                With that, he turned and walked toward the shore. She saw him meet a child there, and take his hand. It was their son.

                Soriel woke to Leila shaking her.

                “Soriel, come on, it’s Pippin!” Leila cried.

                Soriel shook herself awake and followed Leila into the next room where many of the men were sleeping. Pippin was writhing on the floor, clutching the black orb as if it were sealed to his hands. Merry stood frozen in horror. Aragorn was able to relieve Pippin of it, but then he collapsed, and was caught by Legolas. The orb rolled away, stopped only by Gandalf.

                “Fool of a Took!” he cried.

                He hurried to Pippin’s side anyway, and helped him through his experience. Soriel and Leila exchanged worried glances. They moved into the main hall of Meduseld to discuss what to do next now that Pippin had seen the White Tree in the palantir.

                “There was no lie in Pippin’s eyes,” Gandalf said. “A fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring.”

                Gimli heaved a sigh of relief.

                “We’ve been strangely fortunate,” Gandalf continued. “Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the Enemy’s plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm’s Deep showed our Enemy one thing. He knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as week as he supposed. There is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner.” He looked at Théoden. “He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war.”

                Soriel felt worry rise in her at these words, and she unconsciously took Éomer’s hand. He squeezed it in return and she looked at him. They held each other’s gaze for a brief moment before Théoden spoke.

                “Tell me,” he said. “Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?” All eyes turned on him. “What do we owe Gondor?”

                “I will go,” Aragorn offered.

                “No,” Gandalf said.

                “They must be warned,” Aragorn protested.

                “They will be,” Gandalf said, and then approached Aragorn to whisper to him. “Understand this,” he said to the group. “Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith. And I won’t be going alone.” He looked at Pippin.

                “Wait, Gandalf,” Leila said. “You would take Pip to Minas Tirith? Where the Enemy will have quick access to him?”

                “I also do not understand,” Soriel added. “Is he not safer here with us?”

                “I need Pippin to relate to Denethor what he saw,” Gandalf explained. “The Steward must know just how dire the need is to call upon his friends.”

                He glanced at an unsure-looking Théoden.

                “But Gondor is weak,” Soriel pressed. “What if help does not arrive in time?”

                “Soriel,” Aragorn interjected, his eyes softened with understanding. “Pippin will be safe with Gandalf. You need not worry for those who ride with the White Wizard.”

                “She is not alone in this fear,” Leila said. “We only just got Merry and Pippin back.”

                Gandalf approached the women. “I promised they would be safe all the way back in Fanghorn.” He looked at Soriel. “I promised that Boromir’s sacrifice would not be in vain, did I not?”

                She nodded.

                “To that I hold,” he assured her, and then his gentle tone dissolved. “Now, the both of you remember yourselves.”

                Soriel did not like being scolded, and she could tell Leila did not either, but they held back. They had questioned Gandalf enough, it was clear. So, they bid Pippin farewell before he left the hall with Merry and Gandalf. Leila went outside with Aragorn to comfort Merry, who watched his best friend ride away. Soriel could not watch. Her heart broke for the Hobbits, but she also could not forget her feelings after her dream. She still cared for Boromir, but her heart felt strangely light.


	21. Dunharrow, the Grey Company, and the Messenger

                It was almost a week before they had any more news. The night after Pippin and Gandalf left, Soriel explained her dream to Leila, who took it as a sign that Boromir was no longer standing between Soriel and Éomer. Soriel actually agreed. Boromir had been clear in his message to her. After almost five days, they were all in the Golden Hall, when Aragorn came bursting in from outside.

                “The beacons of Minas Tirith!” he shouted. “The beacons are lit!” He approached Théoden. “Gondor calls for aid!”

                Tense eyes turned to the king.

                “And Rohan will answer!” he declared. “Muster the Rohirrim!”

                Éomer nodded, and left the Hall with Gamling. They would be gathering the forces of Rohan at Dunharrow and would ride to Gondor in three days. Soriel and Leila rode with the first group to Dunharrow, where they set up a tent near the king and their company. It was going to be a tense wait as Rohan put together a force to take on the Enemy outside Minas Tirith. On the first night, Leila and Soriel were alarmed when a marshal of the Rohirrim came sprinting by to Théoden’s tent.

                “What do you suppose that’s about?” Leila wondered.

                “If it concerns us, I am sure someone will fetch us,” Soriel said.

                Leila nodded. They did not have to wait long before Legolas poked his head inside their tent and called them out. They followed him to the king’s tent and inside, where Aragorn was with several other people dressed in similar clothes. They were the Dúnedain, Rangers of the North. The leader was called Halbarad, and in his company were the fair sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. They both greeted Soriel warmly, for the sake of their sister’s friendship with her.

                The Grey Company informed Aragorn of the additional armies coming from the river to add to the assault on Gondor. He would need to summon the Army of the Dead, by taking the pathway into the mountain. There would be no chance at victory without them. Suddenly, they were interrupted by Éomer and Théoden.   

                “Soriel,” Éomer said. “Would you come with us a moment?”

                After a quick glance at the company, who nodded their approval, she followed the lords of Rohan outside, where there was another small group of strangers. They bore the tree of Gondor on their chests, but Soriel could not imagine what they were doing here.

                “What is this, Éomer?” she asked.

                “I am Hirgon,” the leader said. “I am a messenger from Captain Faramir of Gondor. He has sent me to get word from the Rohirrim to bring back to his father. Lord Éomer told me you would be willing.”

                “You are…sending me away?” she questioned, a little hurt by this.

                “Give us a moment,” Éomer said, and led Soriel out of earshot. “Soriel, you cannot ride to war with us. Hirgon will take you with these Rangers by a swifter road and then you can remain in the safety of the walls of Minas Tirith.”

                “I do not understand,” Soriel said. “You do not command Éowyn to go to Minas Tirith.”

                “Éowyn is to ride back to Edoras from here,” he told her. “To lead the people. You would serve no purpose there. In Minas Tirith, you might serve in the Houses of Healing.”

                “But…I have no desire to go to Minas Tirith,” she continued. “I would just as well go back with Éowyn and await your return.”

                “Please, Soriel, do as I say,” he said. “Go to Minas Tirith and wait for me there. I may never return to Edoras.”

                Soriel’s eyes widened as she finally understood. If he were to fall in the battle to come, he wanted her close. But still, she was fearful to go to the capitol.

                “What of my Fellowship?” she added. “They are to take the Paths of the Dead.”

                “Soriel, I would hold you prisoner before I would allow you to accompany them there,” Éomer said sternly. “Please. Just go with Hirgon.”

                “As you wish,” she conceded. “I will go to the White City. When do I leave?”

                “Tonight,” he answered with a sigh of relief. “Hirgon will take you to Lord Denethor to testify to our coming.”

                The thought of meeting Boromir’s father made her stomach turn with nerves. How could she face a man whose grandchild she failed to bring? Éomer must have sensed her dilemma.

                “You need not trouble the Steward with the history between you and his son,” he said. “And even so, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

                “I failed the child,” Soriel said almost under her breath. “I have plenty of shame.”

                He suddenly took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him.

                “Listen to me,” he said. “You did not fail. It was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident, which you had no control over.”

                “I had a choice,” she said. “In Lothlórien. I could have stayed. But I was too eager to please Boromir and…I should have stayed.”

                “I am glad you did not,” he replied. “If you had stayed in those woods, we never would have met.”

                “Éomer…”

                “Come now, gather your things,” he said. “You must ride soon.”

                He told Hirgon to wait only a few moments so Soriel could get ready. When she got back to her tent, Leila was there.

                “When will you depart for the Paths of the Dead?” Soriel asked.

                “I am not going,” Leila returned.

                Soriel was shocked.

                “I wish to ride with the Rohirrim,” Leila said. “They need every fighter they can spare, and I cannot abandon them on the eve of battle. I have already said farewell to Legolas. Are you not going?”

                Soriel shook her head and explained the arrangement with Hirgon.

                “I think that is wise,” Leila said.

                “So, we are all separating,” Soriel pointed out, and they gazed at each other for a long moment.

                Simultaneously, they pulled each other into a hug. Tears spilled from their eyes. They had not yet been parted this way, and now that they were so close, it was more difficult than Soriel could have imagined. Leila was such a precious friend to her, she could hardly picture life before discovering her on that mountain.

                “Be careful,” Soriel said. “And look after Merry.”

                “You as well,” Leila returned. “And keep an eye on Pippin.”

                They embraced once more, and with a heavy heart, Soriel left. She followed Éomer back to where Hirgon and his Rangers waited. Éomer helped her onto her horse, and secured her bag. Then he took her hand.

                “Come back to me, Éomer,” she said. “Even if you have not your arms or your head, come back to me.”

                “I will come back to you,” he assured her.

                With a nod, he released her. He watched her go into the night with the Rangers, knowing she would see the White City by morning.


	22. Osgiliath and Minas Tirith

Feeling rather uncomfortable and very lonely, Soriel rode with the Rangers. Another reason she did not want to go with them was because of Leila’s tale, but she could not tell this to Éomer. Even so, she made sure to seem cold and distant. They were just as silent and serious.  

                “We are not taking you directly to Minas Tirith,” Hirgon suddenly said. “First, we will go to Osgiliath, where you will report to Captain Faramir.”

                “Oh?” she returned. “Must I still meet with the Steward?”

                “Yes,” he said. “That is the law of our land.”

                Soriel did not answer, and they rode on. It was still a couple hours to dawn when Hirgon brought them to an abrupt halt.

                “What is it?” Soriel wondered.

                “Orcs are coming,” he explained, and she wondered how he knew. “There are many.” He looked her in the eye. “So many we will likely be slain. Ride on and tell Faramir about our fate and that Rohan is coming.”

                One of the other men handed her a heavy dagger, which she nearly dropped.

                “We will kill as many as we can,” Hirgon continued. “This is in case any of the remaining catch up to you. Osgiliath is not too much farther in the same direction. Keep going and you should still arrive by dawn.”

                She gazed, completely confounded, at him.

                “Go!” he shouted. “Ride now!”

                She snapped back to alertness, turned, and rode off as fast as her horse could carry her, pelting toward the ancient city of Osgiliath, Hirgon’s message in the forefront of her mind. She only slowed when her horse could go no further. The orcs never caught up with her, but neither did the Rangers.

                She reached Osgiliath just as light was breaking over the horizon. She was immediately seized by scouts. They bound her hands, but she did not struggle, as she knew they would take her to Faramir, precisely the person she wanted to see.

                They brought her before him, and she was struck by his similarity to Boromir. And yet, there were distinct differences in their very manners.

                “Captain Faramir,” her captors said. “We found this Elf on the edge of the city.”

                “What is her business?” he asked.

                “I come as a messenger from Hirgon, one of your own, and from Théoden King,” Soriel spoke up.

                “Release her,” Faramir commanded, and they freed her of her binds. “What is your name, lady?”

                “Soriel,” she told him. “I am from Lothlórien. The story of how I got here is a long one, as I originally set out from Rivendell with nine companions.”

                He looked deeply interested. “You traveled with the Fellowship of the Ring?”

                She nodded.

                “Come,” he said. “We must speak in private.”

                They walked into a separate room, and he faced her. He looked different now that he was not before the men. His eyes were softer.

                “I have come across Frodo Baggins and his gardener, Sam,” he told her. “That is how I know of your quest. Since you were a part of that company, are you able to tell me how my brother, Boromir, died?”

                “I am able,” she said, taking a deep breath. “But I have more urgent news. Your messenger, Hirgon, was slain –”

                “And that is grievous news, do not misunderstand,” he cut across her. “Please. Tell me what befell my brother.”

                She swallowed. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about. She feared her emotions would overtake her. But as she looked into his eyes, she could feel his pleading. He was desperate for information. Moved by pity, she spoke.

                “Very well,” she said. “Boromir was a great…friend. He died defending two of Frodo’s kin from Uruk-hai. He was pierced by several arrows. He passed with Lord Aragorn holding him.” She told him how they placed Boromir in one of the boats from Lothlórien and sent him down Rauros and further down the Anduin.

                “I am sad he never did return to the city he so loved,” she said, as she wrapped up, but felt a tear leak from her eye. “And to the people he…he loved.”

                “I am most grateful for your tale,” Faramir said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It is obvious he meant a great deal to you.”

                “I met him on his way to Rivendell,” she explained. “We knew each other for many months.”

                “Very well?” he questioned.

                Clearly, he knew there was something she was not telling him.

                “We planned to marry shortly before his death,” she finally admitted. “I carried his child for a time.”

                “For a time?” he pressed.

                “I lost the baby,” she said, becoming more irritated by his inquiries as they grew more personal. “Ask me no more. Your men have been invasive enough,” she added, remembering Leila.

                His brow furrowed. “Has something happened to you?”

                “Not to me,” she said. “Although, I cannot say I was warmly welcomed. But a friend of mine. An Elf maiden like me. Traveled through Ithilien and left with her body violated and a child she never desired.”

                His eyes went wide. “Are you certain of this?”

                “You would believe me if you witnessed the way she feared even your brother,” she told him.

                “I take this accusation very seriously,” he said. “I hope you know that.”

                Again, his eyes revealed his earnest nature. She nodded.

                “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.

                “I am sorry for yours,” she returned.

                At last, they came to an understanding.

                The meeting with the Steward did not go as well. Soriel was escorted across Pelennor by some other men of Faramir’s. They led her to the top level of the city, where Soriel saw the impressive courtyard. The view of Mordor was terrifying. Her fear was only eased by the presence of Pippin, who she had a glad reunion with.

                Pippin led Soriel in to see Denethor. The Hobbit had not yet taken his official oath of service, which Soriel was surprised he had offered. It was evidently in payment of Boromir’s sacrifice, and she thought that was a lovely sentiment.

                Denethor was about as unpleasant as Soriel had expected. She told him of Théoden’s coming, and he sneered at the news.

                “Rohan…” he muttered. “What can Rohan do against the forces of Mordor?”

                “Much, my lord,” she said. “King Théoden had gathered nearly five thousand men when I departed, and more are coming. The Rohirrim are renowned warriors, and it is unwise to deny their help when Gondor is so desperate.”

                “Tell me,” he spat. “How does an Elf of no standing know such a great deal about these affairs of Men? And Elf maiden at that. What does Théoden mean by sending such a messenger?”

                Soriel was unsure what to say.

                “My lord,” Pippin spoke up. “I think you should pay this lady kindness. Boromir loved her, and she even carried his child for two months.”

                Tension hung heavily in the room. Denethor rose from his chair, his lip quivering with evident rage. Pippin looked nervously at Soriel, just realizing what a mistake he had made. Denethor towered over Soriel, his face just inches from hers. She took a step back in fear.

                “WITH WHAT MAGIC DID YOU SEDUCE MY SON?!” he bellowed, his voice ringing in the chamber. “HOW COULD YOU FAIL TO BRING HIS CHILD AFTER HE FELL? YOU PATHETIC WOMAN!”

                Of everything Soriel had faced, this frightened her the most. Again, tears sprang up in her wide eyes as she gazed at the man looming over her. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came. He had scared the voice out of her.

                “Speak!” he demanded, and she flinched.

                Suddenly, she remembered Éomer’s words to her just before she left. The thought of him gave her some courage.

                “I…Boromir loved me,” she said meekly. “He wanted to marry me.”

                “No,” Denethor said. “He could never love a woman like you. He would love someone of his own race. He must have known the end was near…yes…so he tried to produce an heir. You, being incompetent, failed.”

                “No, my lord,” Soriel replied, louder now. “Boromir professed his love to me. I lost the child in a tragic accident, nothing more. Now please, I have delivered my message on behalf of King Théoden. Allow me now to serve your people in the Houses of Healing.”

                “Go, then!” he cried. “Leave me! Do what you will.”

                He turned and swept away, out of the hall. Soriel collapsed to her knees, and she realized she was trembling. Her heart was still racing. Pippin went to her side.

                “Soriel, forgive me!” he cried.

                “There is nothing to forgive, Pippin,” she assured him, but her voice shook. “He was bound to find out at some point. No one could have guessed he would be so...nasty.”

                Still, she was scared. She told herself she would never again face Denethor, but she wondered if he might have behaved differently, if she still carried her son.


	23. The Sacrifice of Faramir

It was the following day that Faramir returned to Minas Tirith when Osgiliath was overtaken by the orcs coming across the river. Faramir and his men barely made it out alive. He sought Soriel out in the Houses of Healing after his meeting with his father. She met him in the courtyard there.

                “Did you lose many men in the attack?” she asked.

                He nodded solemnly. “Yes. But that is not what I have come to discuss.”

                “What is it?” she wondered.

                “The matter you told me of,” he said. “About your friend who traveled through Ithilien. I am struggling to discover the truth.”

                “My lord, I do not expect you to uncover the truth or deliver justice now,” she told him. “I merely wanted to bring it to your attention so you might keep a few more pairs of eyes on your men when they are not on duty.”

                “It troubles me,” he said. “Knowing this, and not knowing who.”

                “It is well that it troubles you,” she returned. “It cannot now be undone. But it can be prevented from happening again.”

                “I will work on it,” he said. “Now, how did it go with my father?”

                “Not well,” she told him honestly. “He took insult to my coming as a messenger since I am a woman and an Elf. Pippin also told him of my relationship to Boromir, when I had not intended to do so. He…well, he got upset.”

                “Are you alright?” he asked.

                “Oh, yes,” she said. “All he really did was frighten me.”

                Faramir sighed. “I’m sorry. He has not been himself as of late. Just now…I think he saw Boromir in the chamber.”

                “That is disturbing,” she agreed. “Oh, tell me, my lord, when is Pippin to take his oath of service? I promised I would attend.”

                “It is this afternoon,” he told her. “Are you certain? You need not do so if my father frightens you so.”

                She shook her head. “I promised.”

                “Before then, might I ask you to fill me in more on the journeys of my brother?” he asked. “I received no news after he left for Rivendell, and I am desperate to know.”

                With a weary sigh, she agreed, if only to ease poor Faramir’s pain. They sat together on a bench and then she began with how she met Boromir. She talked for nearly an hour, telling stories of the fellowship and Boromir’s actions along the way. She could tell Faramir was hanging on her every word. Boromir used to tell her of his love for his brother, but she had not realized they were this close. When she was finished, Faramir opened up as well. He interjected here and there with stories from Boromir’s childhood that made her laugh, and some that really did not surprise her. It also made her a little sad.

                “I’m sorry,” Faramir said. “I did not mean to upset.”

                “No, my lord,” she assured him. “It is just beginning to feel as if I hardly knew Boromir at all. Not enough to truly love him, anyway.”

                “I do not think that knowing every detail of someone’s life reflects the depth of your love,” he said. “You cared for him so that you nearly bore him a child. The important thing is how you felt.”

                She gazed at him. “It is astounding that you two are related,” she said. “So different you are. You have a beautiful way with words, while Boromir was such a…physical being.”

                He glanced sideways at her and smirked. She laughed.

                “Oh, come now,” she chuckled. “You know very well that I meant only that Boromir’s only art was of the sword.”

                “Of course,” he said, still smiling. “Yes, he was a soldier. A true soldier. Dedicated to his duty and his people. And incredibly strong.”

                “You lack none of those qualities,” she said. “You are a fine man yourself, my lord.”

                “Please, you may call me Faramir,” he told her. “You were to be my sister once. I think we should honor that.”

                “I would like that very much,” she returned.

                When it was time, they went to the hall together for Pippin to take his oath of service. Soriel grew nervous, but Denethor did not even acknowledge that she was there. She did not mind this at all.

                Pippin got down on bended knee, clad in the tower guard mail, and Soriel’s heart swelled with pride. He had grown up so much since she had known him in Rivendell. He kissed Denethor’s ring, and Denethor took the Hobbit’s face in his hand for a moment before continuing.

                “Fealty with love,” he said. “Valor with honor. Disloyalty with vengeance.”

                Pippin got to his feet as Soriel looked worriedly at the Steward. Was he truly threatening his new guard of the citadel?

                Denethor took a seat, and began putting food on his plate when he addressed his son. “I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses. Defenses that your brother long held intact.”

                “What would you have me do?” Faramir questioned.

                “I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought,” Denethor said. “Osgiliath must be retaken.”

                “My lord, Osgiliath is overrun,” Faramir insisted.

                Denethor finally looked up. “Much must be risked in war. Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord’s will?”

                There was a tense moment as Soriel and Pippin glanced between father and son.

                “You wish now that our places had been exchanged,” Faramir said. “That I had died and Boromir had lived.”

                “Yes, I wish that,” Denethor said before taking a sip of wine.

                Soriel could not stop her mouth from dropping. The look on Faramir’s face caused rage to roil up inside her. That was no way to speak to one’s child! Especially when Faramir did everything to please his father! She opened her mouth to defend Faramir, but had no words. It was so unbelievable. Tears had formed in Faramir’s eyes.

                “Since you are robbed of Boromir,” Faramir said. “I will do what I can in his stead.” He bowed. He started to go, but faced Denethor once more. “If I should return, think better of me, Father.”

                “That will depend on the manner of your return,” Denethor said.

                Soriel actually gasped, but covered her mouth quickly to disguise it. Faramir departed the hall, but she was frozen with shock. When she remembered herself, she told Pippin a quick congratulations and then hurried outside after Faramir.

                “Faramir!” she called after him. “Faramir, wait, please!”

                He stopped and faced her. “What is it?”

                “I…” she trailed off. Then, having no words to comfort him, she pulled him into a tight embrace. He was surprised initially, but he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her as well.

                “I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear.

                She heard him sniffle as he pulled away.

                “I must gather my men,” he said.

                “Best of luck to you, my friend,” she said. “Please know that you are loved.”

                He nodded, swallowed, and left. Soriel also departed to the Houses of Healing. The Warden asked if she would mind staying while the other Healers saw the men who going off. Soriel agreed. She had already bid Faramir farewell, and she knew she could not convince him to call it off. He was Boromir’s brother, after all.

                Faramir was the only one to return from that charge, but he was badly poisoned and being dragged by a horse. Behind him came an army like the people of Gondor had never seen.


	24. The Madness of Denethor

                The Steward refused to let his son be treated, convinced that he was dead. Faramir was kept in his own chambers, and Denethor sat silently by his son’s side. Meanwhile, Gandalf had taken command of Minas Tirith. Pippin was still in the citadel, and Soriel was still in the Houses of Healing, tending to the ever increasing amount of wounded from the battle that raged outside.

                Soriel hardly realized that hours had gone by with all the sounds of buildings crumbling from oncoming rocks and worries for the amount of terrified and hurt people, when Pippin came hurtling into the Houses, calling madly for her.

                “I’m here, Pip!” she shouted back. “What is it?”

                “Denethor!” he panted. “He’s trying to burn Faramir!”

                Without waiting for her to respond, he grabbed her hand and led her away, running as fast as his Hobbit legs could carry him, which actually surprised Soriel. As they ran, she wondered just what she could do to stop Denethor. Pip took her to the tombs of the ancient kings of Gondor. The doors were closed, but together, they wrenched them open. Denethor scowled at them as they entered.

                “Peregrin Took! I released you from service! How dare you return!”

                He stepped down from the pyre where Faramir lay. He took Pippin by the collar, and tried to drag him out of the hall.

                “Soriel!” Pippin shrieked. “Faramir’s not dead! Stop him!”

                Soriel swept up behind Denethor and stood next to him while he struggled with Pippin, who was showing a surprising amount of resistance.

                “Lord Denethor!” she exclaimed. “This is madness! If you go through with this, you will be responsible for the death of your son, who still has much to live for! Release the Hobbit, and save the only family you have left!”

                Denethor rounded on her and dropped Pippin. He grabbed her roughly around the neck, and started forcing her backwards out of the hall. Struggling for breath and terrified, she tried to pry his hands away to no avail.

                “Elven wench!” Denethor shouted. “Your presence has poisoned my city and my family long enough!” They reached the door. “Leave here and bear some other man’s bastard!” With that, he let go of her throat, only to backhand her.

                The impact of his strike was such that she fell upon the ground. She felt the bruise already forming around her eye, and knew it would be black and blue by morning. She was so shaken, she did not even realize she was crying. Pippin was at her side, but she could not hear him. All she could feel was the dull ache on her face and the cold stone beneath her. The sound of the door slamming brought her back to her senses.

                “Are you alright?!” Pippin gasped.

                “Yes,” she lied, clutching her face. “Go, get Gandalf! He’s the only one who can save Faramir now! Hurry!”

                He nodded and then dashed off to the lower levels to find the wizard. Soriel looked at her hand. There was blood there, so Denethor’s ring must have broken the skin. Now, she felt the sting. The night air added to it. She had never been struck by a man before. Once again, the actions of Denethor had her shaking and uneasy. She struggled to pick herself up off the ground. Remembering those who needed her help, she hurried back to the sixth level to aid the wounded.


	25. Battle and Returning Warriors

     For hours upon hours, the orcs pushed through the city. The first and second levels were in flames. The soldiers of Gondor fought fiercely for the safety of the White City and its people.

Faramir was thankfully saved by Gandalf and brought to the Houses of Healing, where Soriel immediately began treating him. The poison had spread a great deal because of Denethor’s delay of treatment, but there was hope for him. Soriel forced herself to focus on this, as the threat climbed up the walls of the city, and many people fled.

                Eventually, the sound of a Horn of Rohan rang out through the city from the Field of Pelennor. Théoden’s riders had arrived. Soriel sprinted to the courtyard to see it. The Rohirrim had also brought the sun. She looked out, knowing that Éomer was out there somewhere, about to go into the hoard of orcs and the fight of his life. Leila would as well. She watched the Rohirrim charge down the hill and hit the orc army like a great wave bursting through a dam. It was a majestic sight. Soriel felt her heart grow with hope. Knowing that Éomer and Leila were fighting made her believe she could fight too, in her way. With that in mind, she returned inside.

                It was afternoon before Soriel knew much else. She was kept busy, and there always had to be a healer with Faramir in case his condition worsened. It was only when the Warden came and announced that the battle was over that Soriel went back outside.

                In the lower levels of the city, what appeared to be green smoke swept through. She guessed that Aragorn had succeeded in winning the allegiance of the undead army. The city grew eerily quiet, as if holding its very breath. Then the soldiers came flooding in.

                Éomer returned, unharmed, but with him came Éowyn, who had an injury Soriel had not seen before, and Aragorn would need to heal. Théoden, she learned, had not survived the battle, so Éomer, on top of his worry for his sister was also devastated by the loss of his uncle who practically raised him.

                When he entered the Houses, Soriel ran and threw herself into him. She flung her arms around his neck, and his found their way around her waist. He buried his face in her golden locks and they both released a breath they did know they were holding.

                “I am so happy you made it,” she whispered.

                He only nodded and buried his face deeper before choking out a muffled sob. She let him grieve into her shoulder while she stroked his hair, offering soft words of comfort. When he calmed down, he pulled away from the embrace and looked at her. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment.

                “I should go to my sister now,” he said at last. He gave her hands a squeeze, and started toward Éowyn’s bed.

                “Éomer!” she called after him and he turned.

                With a burst of boldness, she kissed him hard. She put a lot of unsaid things into this kiss. It was a thank you for everything he had done, a promise to be there for him, and even a declaration of love. When they parted, no words needed to be spoken. They locked eyes briefly, then went where they were needed respectively.

                After delivering bandages and herbs, Soriel heard a familiar voice calling to her. She whipped around and a delight met her eyes. It was Leila! She was as nervous as Soriel ever remembered her being, clutching Legolas’s arm so hard her knuckles were white. Soriel understood why. The Men of Gondor were a reminder of her worst trauma. Also, there was a red stain on her arm where she had been wounded.

                “Leila!” Soriel cried, and rushed to her. “You’re hurt!”

                “It’s just a scratch,” Leila insisted.

                Soriel thought it was more than that, but got straight to work patching it up.

                “It is wonderful to see you, by the way,” she said, and then added to Legolas and Gimli. “All of you. But where is Aragorn?”

                “He is tending to Captain Faramir,” Legolas answered.

                “Oh, I meant to be with him when he woke,” Soriel said. “I am nearly finished, Leila, and you should rest when I do.”

                “Soriel,” Leila said. “Who hit you?”

                Soriel had nearly forgotten the bruise forming on her cheek. She hoped it was not too horrible, as she had no desire to upset Éomer further. 

                “Is it bad?” she returned, poking it lightly.

                “Well, it is only a light purple,” Leila told her. “But who on earth did it?” Her tone indicated a growing anger.

                “It was Denethor,” Soriel told her. “I inconvenienced him.”

                “Doesn’t he know what you meant to his son?” Leila wondered.

                “Yes, and he hated me for it,” Soriel explained. “But I have not time to give details now, and Denethor is dead. Leila, get some sleep so that gash will heal. I will check on you later. Legolas, you are not to leave her side.”

                “Never,” he said with a nod.

                She hugged Leila tightly before heading to Faramir’s room. She stood in the door and watched the end of Aragorn healing him. When he woke, Soriel knelt at his side. Aragorn told him to rest, and then the king departed.

                “How are you?” Soriel asked Faramir.

                “Tired,” he replied. He looked at her. “You need not stay with me. I know how much you long to be with your friends.”

                “You are my friend,” she reminded him.

                He smiled. “I must sleep. Go. Be with the others and come back to me later.”

                She nodded and he was sound asleep before she even closed the door behind her. She then followed Aragorn to where Éowyn was. Éomer saw Soriel coming and gave her a pleading look. She hurried, and when she finally sat beside him, she took his hand. He squeezed it in thanks, but did not take his eyes off of Aragorn and Éowyn. Aragorn called to her, assured her that the enemy was gone, but she did not wake. Soriel saw Legolas and Leila appear in the doorway, and she did not mind that Leila had disobeyed her. Leila and Éowyn were very close as well.

                Aragorn turned to Éomer. “Call her!” he commanded and swept from the room.             

                “Éowyn!” Éomer cried, taking his sister’s hand in both of his, and tears began to escape his eyes once more. “Éowyn!”

                Soriel placed her hands on his shoulders in support. He called to his sister once more, and her eyes fluttered open. They locked eyes and smiled at one another. Soriel looked to Legolas and Leila, and they nonverbally agreed to depart, leaving the siblings to have this tender moment to themselves.


	26. March to the Black Gate

It was only a few days after the Battle of Pelennor Fields that Éomer came to Soriel during one of her visits with Faramir, who was not yet walking. This was unusual for Éomer, as he spent most of his time with his sister, privately with Soriel, or in the main hall discussing the next move with Aragorn and Gandalf.

                “Éomer!” she gasped, and beamed at him. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

                He opened his mouth to explain, but she interrupted.

                “Have you met Lord Faramir?” she asked.

                “I have not,” he said, but extended his hand. “I have heard much about you, my lord.”

                “And I, you,” Faramir replied, accepting the handshake. “From Soriel, naturally.”

                Éomer smiled. “That is indeed strange. I have heard of you from the same source.”

                A blush spread across her face as both men smirked at her. Éomer loved when Soriel blushed. He thought she looked particularly feminine with a pink tint to her cheeks. She wore humility well.

                “Do not be embarrassed,” he said, and kissed her swiftly on the cheek. “Now, I mean no offense to Captain Faramir, but the lady and I have been summoned to a meeting with Aragorn.”

                “She’s all yours,” Faramir said.

                They bid him farewell, and headed to the throne room. The space still made Soriel uncomfortable, as she remembered Denethor. Her face ached at the thought of him. Éomer had noticed the bruise and small cut after his sister was well and when she told him what happened, he reacted as she had expected: angry. She assured him that she was just fine, and that Denethor was dead, so there was nothing he could do about it even if he wanted to. He had huffed but dropped the topic.

                They walked into the hall. Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Leila, and Gimli were there. Gimli sat on the Steward’s chair, smoking his pipe, which almost made Soriel laugh. Aragorn had his back to the throne and looked pensive. Gandalf paced.

                “Frodo has passed beyond my sight,” he said. “The darkness is deepening.”

                “If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it,” Aragorn said.

                “It is only a matter of time,” Gandalf returned. “He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping.”

                “Let him stay there,” Gimli said with a puff of his pipe. “Let him rot! Why should we care?”

                “Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom,” Gandalf reminded him. “I’ve sent him to his death.”

                “No,” said Aragorn, turning and facing them at last. “There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that.”

                “How?” wondered Leila.

                “Draw out Sauron’s armies,” he explained. “Empty his lands. When we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate.”

                Gimli coughed. Éomer stepped forward.

                “We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms,” he said.

                “Not for ourselves,” Aragorn continued. “But we can give Frodo a chance if we keep Sauron’s eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves.”

                “A diversion,” Legolas said.

                “Certainty of death, small chance of success,” Gimli joked. “What are we waiting for?”

                Soriel could not laugh now.

                “Sauron will suspect a trap,” Gandalf said to Aragorn. “He will not take the bait.”

                “Oh, I think he will,” Aragorn assured him with a smile.

                Soriel could not take this. Just when she thought it was all over, that she no longer had to worry for the fate of her friends, they were putting themselves into the heart of the battle once again. She looked around at them all: Éomer, Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Leila, even Merry and Pippin. They all meant so much to her. The thought of losing them made her want to scream. Since Rohan, she felt she was always just waiting for them to return. She did not think she could do this anymore. Looking at them, prepared to risk it all as always, she had to look away.

                Aragorn at last dismissed them, and Éomer offered to walk Soriel back to the Houses of Healing. He apparently sensed her aching heart, for he stopped her.

                “Soriel,” he said, but he did not need to ask.

                “I can’t do this anymore!” she exclaimed. “All of you! All you ever do is throw yourselves into the heart of battle! First, Boromir, then my son! I cannot lose anymore, especially you and my fellowship! My heart can’t take it, Éomer!” She looked at him, wide eyed. “Take me with you. Let me be at your side. Then if you should fall, I will –”

                He took her by the shoulders. “No, Soriel. That would be senseless.”

                “It is senseless for you to go!” she cried. “You said it yourself, you cannot achieve victory! You are going away and will likely never return! I cannot just be left behind! Let me go and die alongside the ones I love!”

                “What good would that do?” he returned.

                “It would ease my pain!” she shouted. “I know you are terrified to go and lose your life, but do not forget that it is we who are left behind who suffer the longest!”

                “Soriel!” he said, shaking her a little. “This is bigger than us. This is about the fate of Middle Earth. Do you think it is my wish to leave you? It is not. I want nothing more than to take you back to Edoras and remain there until the end of our days. But I have a duty, and so do you. Return to the Houses of Healing where you will do your part. I will do mine. We have no other choice.”

                Tears spilled over and dripped from her chin. He put his hands on either side of her face and gently wiped them away with his thumb.

                “I know death is harder on the living,” he continued. “But do not resign yourself to my demise. I need you to hold on to hope for us.”

                “I will,” she promised. “I just feel so…lost.”

                “We have this night,” he said. “This night I will grant whatever wish you have.”

                She did not have to think long about what she wanted from him. “Stay with me tonight.”

                He nodded, understanding her implication. They parted ways for about an hour so he could say goodbye to Éowyn before he left, and Soriel could spend some time with Leila as well. When it was done, he came to her room, and they made love.

                Throughout the night, they spoke of many things. He told her of his childhood, growing up in Rohan, and some of his past romances. She told him about Lothlórien, since he had never been, and her travels throughout Middle Earth. She occasionally shed tears when she thought this might be the last time he held her, but he whispered comforts in her ear, easing her pain. It was the most beautiful night she had spent with another, and she would always cherish it, whether Éomer returned or not.

                The next day, Soriel bid her friends a heart-wrenching goodbye, especially with Leila. Both of them cried, and Leila spoke first.

                “You are my dearest friend,” she said. “You saved my life on that mountain, which I never thought I would survive. I will never forget you.”

                “And I you,” Soriel returned. “Your strength has changed me forever.”

                They embraced once more before Legolas led Leila away.

                Éomer touched Soriel’s arm, alerting her to his presence. She turned to face him and they wrapped their arms around each other. She offered a silent prayer for his protection as well as her friends’. His armor was cold, but she told herself to keep in mind the warmth of his embrace she learned the night before.

                She finally looked up at him and whispered that she loved him. He returned the sentiment just as quietly, but then he kissed her in plain sight of all the soldiers and citizens of Gondor. All knew that Éomer King was in love with the Elf maiden from far away. They embraced just once more before he mounted his horse, and she watched the people she loved most – Éomer, Leila, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn, Merry, and Pippin – ride away. Soriel, the last member of the Fellowship, remained behind, feeling absolutely helpless.


	27. Return from the Black Gate

While Éomer, Leila and the others fought outside Mordor, Soriel did as he bid her and remained in the Houses of Healing. When Faramir was not with Éowyn, he would help Soriel keep her spirits up. Often, they made each other laugh with a really good Boromir story. However, before long, he was spending all his free time with Éowyn, and Soriel was glad for him, but it did make her feel lonelier. Eventually, Faramir had Steward duties, preparing for Aragorn’s return, and hardly even had time for Éowyn.

                After what felt like an entire age, a letter came to Soriel from Éomer. He had also sent one to Éowyn, asking her to join him in celebration. When Soriel first received the letter, she nearly fainted, but held on to a nearby pillar, and took it in her shaking hands. When she opened it, tears of joy came to her eyes. Éomer was alive and uninjured. After the celebration in the field of Cormallen, they would all be returning to Minas Tirith, including her friends – Aragorn, Legolas, Leila, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin, who were also unharmed. She wept with happiness and sank to the floor, clutching the letter to her chest, close to her heart.

                Now that the Ring was destroyed, the people of Gondor had found their cheer. They sang joyfully as they began repairs to the city. Soriel joined them, feeling merry as well. For a city that almost fell into ruin, Soriel had not seen a happier place. It was strange, but she liked starting anew this way. It made her feel refreshed as well.

                Finally, the soldiers returned. Aragorn, Éomer, and Prince Imrahil – who had joined them for the march to Mordor – were at the front of the troops. They left their horses on the first level, and marched through the city to the seventh level, where Soriel was waiting for them.

                Leila raced ahead when she saw Soriel and hurled herself into her friend. Soriel welcomed her happily, and they laughed through their embrace.

                “Leila, I have so missed you!” Soriel cried.

                “We missed you too!” Leila returned. “I never thought to see you again! It seems when I am certain of death, I end up seeing your face.”

                Soriel was touched. “And you are always there to bring me joy when I lose hope. I have never been happier to see you, my friend.”

                Over Leila’s shoulder, she spotted Éomer. Leila smiled and allowed Soriel to go to him. Soriel took a flying leap at Éomer, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He almost stumbled when he caught her, but remained standing as her lips crashed upon his. When they broke apart, neither of them could stop grinning.

                After Éomer, Soriel embraced the rest of the Fellowship, even Gandalf, who informed her that Frodo and Sam were taken to the Houses of Healing for treatment. She nodded, and made a note to herself that she must go and see them when she had the chance.

                With her Elven ears, she heard Imrahil approach Éomer.

                “Well, Éomer King, if I may say so, it is a shame you have chosen the Elf,” he said. “I was hoping to offer my daughter, Lothiriel, to be your wife. It would be a grand union between our two mighty countries in the coming peace.”

                Éomer chuckled. “The offer is flattering, Prince Imrahil, and I see the political value of the match, but I am sure there is another man who can make your daughter a similar offer. I have every intention of honoring my country by making Soriel the Queen.”

                “But surely you know my daughter is more suitable,” Imrahil continued. “The Elf, while beautiful, does not have –”

                “You are too bold, my lord,” Éomer replied, becoming cold. “That you may not say.”

                Hearing Éomer defend her so made Soriel feel warm inside. She also was incredibly excited to learn that he wanted to marry her. To be queen of Rohan was not something she had ever expected, but that was her future now. And what a future she had to look forward to.

                He came to join her and her friends, slipping an arm around her waist. She looked up at him with all the admiration in the world as they smiled at one another. Then Aragorn invited them inside, and everyone happily followed him into the white tower to meet Faramir and Éowyn.  


	28. A Proposal of Sorts

As the people of Gondor prepared for the crowning of the king, Soriel and Éomer did their best to make time to spend together. There were still many with grievous wounds in the Houses of Healing, and Soriel spent much time there, and Éomer was preparing for his own coronation when he returned to Edoras. Still, they spent their nights together. One night, as they lay awake, Éomer brought up his sister’s engagement.

                “This man, Faramir,” he said. “Is he like his father?”

                Soriel looked at him. “You have met Faramir, yes?”

                He did not laugh. “I just want to know. You knew all of those men. Do you think he will become like his father?”

                “No,” Soriel assured him. “Is this because Denethor struck me, and you worry Faramir might similarly treat Éowyn?”

                He gave her an embarrassed sort of nod.

                “Let me put you at ease,” she said. “Faramir is nothing like his father. He is gentle and scholarly and takes joy in peace. And he loves Éowyn so. He would never, ever harm her.”

                “That is well,” he said, and seemed to relax. “Now, I can gladly announce their engagement, and ours as well.”

                She blinked. “Oh? You know I heard you say to Prince Imrahil that you intend to marry me, and now you mention our engagement so carelessly. Yet, you have not offered me a proper proposal.”

                “Well, I know you will say yes,” he replied. “It did not seem pertinent to ask you. Would you like me to? I do not want you to feel as if you have no choice in the matter.”

                She smiled. “I would very much like to be asked. If only to remind you once again how much I adore you.”

                “Alright then,” he said, and sat up before taking her hand. “Soriel, would you do me the tremendous honor of becoming my wife and queen to my people?”

                “Nothing would bring me greater happiness, Éomer,” she replied.

                He kissed her sweetly.

                “Are you certain your people will accept me as their queen?” she wondered.

                “Oh yes,” he said. “The men have heard from their wives and sisters how you comforted them throughout the fight at Helm’s Deep. They will be thrilled.”

                She grinned. She did not think much of her actions that night, but the people of Rohan apparently still discussed it. It made the thought of being their queen more exciting than nerve-wracking. And of course, Éomer would be her king, and that was the most thrilling thought of all.


	29. The End, the Beginning, and Goodbye

Aragorn’s coronation was just as beautiful as anyone could have expected. Faramir crowned him, and Aragorn spoke about making peace in Middle Earth and repairing the damage done by the servants of Mordor. He sang the Song of Isildur. The end of the War of the Ring had come, and an era of peace was about to begin.

                Soriel and Éomer stood side by side throughout the ceremony. When Aragorn walked among the people, he nodded to them as they bowed. Legolas approached the new king, and placed a hand on his shoulder. On Legolas’s other arm was Leila looking as if she were about to burst with joy. All around them knew that she would soon be princess of Mirkwood, even if it was not yet official.

                Legolas stepped aside and allowed Aragorn to see something that surprised him. It was Arwen. There was a moment of tension where the two simply looked at one another. Then Aragorn kissed her, lifted her off her feet, and spun her around as she laughed. Everyone smiled at the sweet moment between the king and future queen.

                With Arwen came her father, Elrond, his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and Galadriel and Celeborn. Behind them followed the Elves of Lothlórien and Rivendell who were sailing to the Undying Lands as soon as possible. 

                Aragorn went through the crowd until he reached Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. After a beat, they bowed to him.

                “My friends,” Aragorn said. “You bow to no one.”

                With that the King of Gondor and Lord of Men, with his bride to be Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of her people, bowed to four simple Hobbits. All the people of Gondor, of Rohan, and the Elves followed the king’s example. The Hobbits looked incredibly uncomfortable to receive this kind of respect, but the members of the Fellowship knew they earned it. Those Hobbits had done more than was ever right to ask of them.

                After all duties in Minas Tirith were completed, the Fellowship prepared to depart once again. They said goodbye to Aragorn and Arwen, promising to return for the wedding. Soriel, Éomer, Faramir, Éowyn, Legolas, Leila, Gimli, Gandalf, and the Hobbits set off to Edoras. There were two engagements to announce in Rohan. The Hobbits were heading back to the Shire. Leila was to accompany Legolas and Gimli on their explorations of Helm’s Deep and Fangorn.

                They came first to Helm Hammerhand’s keep and stopped for the trio. Leila and Soriel dismounted to say goodbye and embraced.

                “Come see me in Meduseld before you go to Fangorn,” Soriel said. “Éomer and I will give you a grand stay.”

                “Of course,” Leila said. “We will stay for the upcoming weddings.”

                They smiled at each other before Soriel gave Legolas and Gimli hugs, and then she wished them all well. The Hobbits said goodbye too, and then they were off again.

                They arrived in Edoras within a few days, and everyone was terribly sorry to hear of King Théoden’s death, but welcomed Éomer as their king. He had spoken true that the people remembered Soriel’s actions during Helm’s Deep, and were glad to have her as queen. They were also thrilled at the news of Faramir and Éowyn’s engagement. They celebrated that night in Meduseld and drank to the memory of Théoden.

                The Hobbits and Gandalf were preparing to leave, but before they did, Éowyn presented Merry with a horn of Rohan for serving the king and the White Lady herself during battle. Pippin received from Faramir the mail of the Tower Guard. These two Hobbits were heroes among Men. Frodo and Sam congratulated their friends, and spoke a little with Faramir. Then Gandalf urged them to their ponies and to hurry back to the Shire.

                Soriel and Éomer stood on the edge of the Golden Hall and watched their friends leave, and a distinct feeling of peace came over them.

                “It is truly the end,” she said, half to herself.

                “How do you mean?” he replied.

                “It has all ended,” she said. “The war, the Fellowship, and even the time of the Elves. It is over.” In saying so, melancholy crept up on her.

                “Those things are finished, yes,” he said. “But there is much that is about to begin. The Hobbits will have new lives in their home. The cities and villages of Men will rise again. All the marriages coming up, including ours. True, Middle Earth will not be as we knew it, but we are starting a new world. That is the beginning of a new beginning.”

                She nodded. “Yes. Middle Earth must be renewed, down to us as individuals. With this comes the end of the things we began long ago.”

                He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before leading her inside the hall of his fathers to begin the renewing of the world along with the renewing of themselves.


	30. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out Legolas and Leila's story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629558/chapters/31297209

Soriel and Éomer wed, and she bore him five children. First, four girls: Éadwynn, Maren, Bera, and Frida. Then a son, who they called Théodred, in honor of Éomer’s fallen cousin. The couple had many happy years together. Their children all grew into wonderful young leaders of Rohan. Éomer passed when he was 63, and Soriel had a choice to sail to the Undying Lands with Leila and Legolas, who had become king and queen of Mirkwood, or to surrender the gift of her people, immortality. She chose not to go to the west, wanting to spend her remaining days with her children and grandchildren. She later joined her husband in death.


End file.
